The Fourth
by Moore12
Summary: A Legacy rewrite featuring Ram and all of the other characters in the movie. Weaving flashbacks and the present together, it gives a full character analysis of all of your favorites. Read new A/N for more info! EPILOGUE UP! COMPLETE...
1. Prologue

_A/N: PLEASE READ: Hey all! This is my first attempt at writing a full length Tron fanfic. So far it's going well...except I feel like people aren't giving it much of a chance because of my fairly bad prologue. So, I'll tell you a little more about it here: basically, this fanfic is a rewrite of Tron Legacy (and, trust me, the further in you get, the more it diverges with the movie). It blends flashbacks (always in italics with the date) and the present to give a complete analysis of the characters, in particular Ram, Flynn, Tron/Rinzler, Clu and Quorra (there is some Sam and Castor/Zeus as well). The chapters do get longer (and more in depth) as you go on and there is a lot of action (i.e. lots of fight scenes, etc.). So please give it a chance! Read the next chapter...I promise you'll be pleasantly surprised! Anyway, R&R and enjoy! ~Moore12~ _

_Prologue _

_1989_

"_I wanted to build the perfect system but I needed help, man," the man smiled down at his son, a sense of pride in his own accomplishments washing over him. "So I brought Tron over from the old system to help out. And I created a program in my own image…"_

"_Clu!" his son exclaimed, beaming because he was able to actually participate in the story rather than just remain a passive listener. _

"_That's right, man," the man handed his son an action figure that lit up, one that's resemblance to him was uncanny. He has my good looks, he thought to himself for a moment, snickering to himself. "I created Clu to be an admin, and he helps me oversee the creation of this perfect system…this is going to change the world, Sam." _

_Sam looked up at his father, practically quivering with anticipation. "I want to go there," he blurted out suddenly. "Please, dad, will you take me there!" _

_His father smiled at him and then ruffled his curls affectionately. "One day, Sam, one day," he said softly before adding, "But you have to let me finish my story first." _

_Nodding seriously, Sam decided it would be best to hold his tongue and allow his father to finish. Besides, he had implicitly promised he would take him, hadn't he? Regardless, he was intrigued to learn that there was more to the story. Clearing his throat, the man continues, "It's not just me, Clu and Tron in there. There's a fourth. I like to think of him as our moral compass—the voice of the programs, man. But even he couldn't have seen what was going to happen next."_

"_What?" Sam asked, the excitement building inside of him. _

"_The miracle," his father said almost reverently; Sam couldn't help but notice that his eyes widened in awe at the mere mention of it. _

_When he didn't continue, Sam asked, anxious to hear more, "What miracle?" _

"_And that's for another time," his father chuckled as he ruffled his curls once more. "I have to get back to work, man. But don't worry; I'll take you to the Grid soon." _

_And even as he listened to the roar of the motorcycle starting, even as he listened to his father drive off into the darkness, he was certain that his father would never break his promise. _

_2009_

Too many lines to count lined the walls, and he stared at them dully, unable to recall why he even bothered to track how many torturous cycles he had been there. Snickering to himself weakly—he was as exhausted as always after yet another disc battle—he tried to remember the significance of those lines but found that he couldn't. It's been so long, he thought bitterly, the exact number doesn't even matter anymore. Because all he could remember were the empty promises, the treachery…and the fact that the "great" creator failed to listen to his own moral compass. It doesn't matter now. I'm going to derezz here soon enough, he thought bleakly. And then it will all finally be over…

A guard banged on the wall of his cell, and a gruff voice called, "There's someone here who wants to speak with you."

Slowly, he hauled himself to his feet knowing all too well that he wasn't allowed to refuse a visitor. He was a conscript yet again, and he wasn't allowed to make any decisions about his life. But that reality couldn't keep him from wondering who wanted to talk to him badly enough to come here; this was, after all, a dark place, a place of such evil it surpassed even the old Game Grid he knew all too well.

As soon as he made it to the entrance of his small cell which served as a window to the outside world he couldn't escape to—he had tried that once in a more desperate moment cycles ago only to be zapped by the force field—he was confronted by a program he had never wanted to see again. "What in the name of the users do you want, Clu?" he snarled, unable to contain his rage.

"And I thought you were the nice one," Clu laughed dryly, "the reasonable one."

He wished that he could tell that program—if he even deserved to be called that, to him he was more of a virus, bent on corrupting all the good in the Grid—what was truly on his mind, but he bit his lip and kept quiet. Clearly realizing that he wasn't about to talk, Clu continued, the sneer still present in his voice, "I was charged with creating the prefect system, man. I did what I had to do to eliminate one of many threats to that perfection. You of all programs should understand why I did what I did. Wasn't it your function to act as the voice of the programs?"

The last thing he wanted to do was to have to listen to Clu pompously justify his terrible actions so he snapped, "What do you want? I know you; you didn't come here just to rub your 'successes' in my face. You came here for a reason."

"You're as sharp as ever, man," Clu laughed, not even attempting to hide the sarcasm in his voice. "Of course I came here for a reason. I need your help."

"My help?" he snarled, fully repulsed by the suggestion. "You want my help? After what you've done to me? After what you've done to the Grid?"

Clu smiled at him then, and he knew that didn't bode well. The last time he had seen that wicked, sadistic smile, he had been dumped in this horrible place to rot and to, one day, derezz. He didn't even want to know what Clu was planning because he knew it couldn't be good. "Here's the thing, Ram," Clu snickered, still smiling that smile at him. "You don't have a choice."


	2. Chapter 1

_Sorry for the delay. Hope you enjoy it and that it's worth the wait! Anyway, please review. I love hearing what people think. ~Moore12~_

**One **

_1999_

_He knew Clu wanted him de-rezzed long ago. When he had forced him into the games—one of the first things he had done, right before wiping out the ISOs even—he knew the reasoning behind it. Clu wanted him de-rezzed. It was that simple. He didn't want him having the chance to thwart his master plans; he didn't want him revealing his secrets; he didn't want him inciting a rebellion. He knew too much and Clu thought he was useless, just a mere actuarial program despite his modifications and far from perfect—the worst crime of all. _

_So Clu thought that the best way to dispose of him inconspicuously was to dump in the games and have him fight for his life. _

_Well, he had underestimated him, as many programs had before. He was still there, still fighting—Clu's master plan of disposing of him a complete failure. From the inside, he spread small rumors—that weren't true, but only he knew that—of Flynn's plan to rise up and destroy Clu to feed resistance. He was doing exactly what Clu wanted to prevent him from doing, and he always knew it wouldn't last forever. _

_And as he stared down Rinzler in what should have been just another routine disc battle, he knew it was finally going to be over. He could barely hear the roar of the unfriendly crowd, screaming for his deresolution. No, he could only hear the low growl rumbling from Rinzler's throat. It was over, he knew, but he wasn't about to go down without a fight. He would, if he was lucky, take Clu's precious pet with him. _

_The next thing he knew, one of Rinzler's orange identity discs nearly decapitated him—he hit the floor just in time to delay his deresolution. Just as he was scrambling to his feet, Rinzler launched the second identity disc, which he just blocked with his own. Oh users, he thought breathlessly as he got back to his feet. He's too good. _

_Rinzler didn't waste any time as soon as easily caught both his discs again; he launched both of them in quick succession. He blocked the first disc with his own, sending it skittering to a stop in the corner, and, to his own surprise, caught the second and launched it with all his might at his menacing opponent. The disc ricocheted off the clear roof and careened towards Rinzler with even greater force. _

_His opponent was on the defensive—the disc just missed grazing him as he nearly bent completely backward to avoid it—and, with a running start, he launched his own disc for the first time. He knew he had to take advantage of the opportunity of having taken Rinzler off guard, and this was a losing battle. _

_It was almost as if his entire world was spinning and going in slow motion as his disc cut through the air towards Rinzler. Everything seemed still and silent even though he could hear the faint roar of the now disapproving roar of the crowd. I might actually win, he thought. I might actually end this once and for all…_

_When Rinzler caught the disc everything sped up; his head pounded as the sounds of the crowd roared around him, as his opponent stalked towards him, playing up his victory. With two identity discs in hand—one a threatening orange, the other a pale blue—his perpetual growl morphed into an amused laugh. He was taking pleasure in what would be just another deresolution for him. _

_His only hope was to grab Rinzler's disc that lay in the corner. But he couldn't turn his back on his opponent to go get it. It was then he was certain it was over. "Just get it over with," he yelled, trying to hide the fear in his voice. "You know how long I've been waiting for this?" _

_That was when Rinzler stopped. Noticing that his opponent tensed at the sound of his voice, he continued, beginning to walk slowly backwards towards the disc, "Oh come on now! How many ISOs did you de-rezz? What's one more?" _

_The crowd had fallen silent at the sight of their "champion"—wasn't that what Clu had introduced him as for his first ever match in the games?—failing to finish the battle. Even though Rinzler's sudden confusion and pause didn't make much sense to him, he was going to use it to gain the advantage again. "I'm helpless!" he yelled, trying his best sound edgy. "Isn't killing the helpless what you do best?" _

_He had hit a raw nerve, it was apparent. The moment Rinzler started growling again, he knew he had crossed the line and thwarted his own chance of survival. As soon as Rinzler leapt towards him, he scrambled towards the identity disc in the corner, hoping to reach it before it was too late. _

_He didn't make it; Rinzler tackled him right before he reached the disc. He was lying on his stomach—the disc that could have saved him just out of reach—and he stared down at the ground through the clear floor. That was when he realized something: he wasn't de-rezzed, or even de-rezzing. He had happened before, and he knew it wasn't happening now. What's he waiting for? he had to stop and wonder. _

_Gruffly, Rinzler rolled him over to face him. Staring at his own reflection in Rinzler's black mask, he braced himself for the end. And that was when Rinzler's mask began to slowly de-rezz, revealing an all too familiar face, one he thought he would never see again. _

"_Tron?" he whispered weakly just before Rinzler's identity disc smashed into his mask. _

_His mask de-rezzed, he could only watch helplessly as Rinzler readied himself to finish his gruesome task. But he paused again, staring him in the eyes questioningly. "Ram?" _

"_Finish him!" Clu's voice roared over the loudspeakers and the expression on Rinzler's face steeled once more, turning to one of resolution and not of sympathy. _

_He could only watch as Rinzler struck him in the side of his face with his identity disc, and then the world slowly faded into inky blackness. _

_2009_

I

Sam really didn't know what he was going to find as he walked into his father's abandoned arcade. He knew that Alan had received a message on that ancient pager of his, but what did that really mean? Was he really expecting to find his father? What was he thinking even coming here?

When he hit the switch, the whole place came to life. The arcade games—covered in plastic and layers of dust—blinked to life and began whirring and chirping, their screens bright and filled with action once more. But he hardly noticed them, hardly noticed the music pounding around him. The only thing he saw was the machine that stood at the back, a large, lit up blue sign proclaiming "Tron" overtop of it.

Walking towards the game—hoping it would answer some of his questions even though he doubted it would—Sam thought about his father again. It had been so long since he had seen him, and he had promised him a free game, hadn't he? Oh come on, Sam, he thought. That was how long ago?

He wasn't expecting when he put the quarter he had saved for so long in the machine that it would fall out, but the machine would seem to shift. He wasn't expecting to find another room, one with a dust covered computer that was still on, still working after all these years.

Well, let's get some answers, he thought as he began to type.

II

"Well, you got what you wanted," the little program growled, the dark mask covering his face hiding what Clu knew must be a sneer. "I contacted Alan for you, and that's all I'm going to do."

Clu had to respect his pluck, even though he hated him for it. For such a little program—and a former actuary with a damaged code none the less—he never seemed to have learned how to respect programs bigger and stronger than him. "Good," he snarled, trying not to sound too thrilled, lest he give away his plan. Turning to one of his guards, he said, "I no longer am of need of Ram's services. Take him back to his cell."

"Yes, sir," the guard said obediently, grabbing Ram by his arm. "Let's go."

But Ram wouldn't budge, and Clu had to wonder what had gotten into his former colleague. Maybe I'll need to ensure his deresolution during his next trip to the games, he thought. I can't allow him to live anymore, not if he's going to act like this.

"Clu," he said, his voice pleading, but his face still hidden. "Clu, whatever it is your planning, don't go through with it. I know Flynn, know him better than you do. You'll just make him angry."

What's he playing at? Clu wondered as he stared at the smaller program in wonder. He sounds like he's trying to be helpful, pleading with me not to go through with it. Damn that mask, damn Rinzler for not de-rezzing him when he had the chance.

"That's just what I want," Clu laughed, stalking over to where Ram stood to circle him menacingly. "But thanks so much for speaking for the programs."

To his surprise, Ram just snorted as his insult. "Don't say I didn't warn you," he called as the guard pulled him away, leaving Clu with his thoughts and his schemes that didn't seem so promising anymore.


	3. Chapter 2

_Two new chapters in one day! What am I thinking? Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's longer than normal and FILLED with action. And, pretty please, review. I love hearing what people think because it inspires me to write. Enjoy! ~Moore12~ _

**T****wo **

_1989_

_He didn't even look up from his work when the small program entered. He was busy and didn't want to be bothered, even though he figured it had to be something important. As of the moment, the ISOs were his priority—he had to determine where he should place their lodging. They were the ones that mattered; their discovery, by him, was going to change the world…for the better…forever. Nothing will ever be the same, he thought smugly. And it's all because of you. _

"_Flynn," a small, soft voice tore him from his thoughts. Sighing deeply—he was onto something and had been so rudely interrupted—he turned around and saw Ram standing in the entrance to his "office," a nervous smile on his face. _

"_What is it now, Ram?" he grumbled, not even trying to hide the exasperation in his voice. He added, just wanting to make it clear his was an unwanted interruption, "Can't you tell I'm busy?" _

_Ram looked at him with fear filled eyes—what he was so afraid of was beyond him—but didn't say anything at first. When he did speak, his voice was shaking slightly, "Flynn, something's wrong." _

"_Yeah?" he asked, not really interested in what Ram had to say. "Well, don't just stand there and stare at me, man! What the hell is it?" _

_He watched the small program flinch at his words and had to wonder if he had been too harsh. I did bring him back to help me out, he thought as he tried to smile at the program and found that he couldn't. But…he hasn't really done much but get in the way. _

"_Flynn," Ram began, his eyes darting nervously around the room. When he continued, his voice had gained some confidence. "It's Clu. Something's wrong with that guy. I…I think he's planning something." _

_Bristling at Ram's contention, he snapped, "There is nothing wrong with Clu! You hear me?" _

_Ram looked at him—disbelief in his eyes—and then sighed deeply. "Flynn, you've got to hear me out, alright?" he pleaded, his voice anxious. "I know Clu's your program and I'm not but you've got to hear me out!"_

"_Wow, you are a sharp, man," he snickered, glaring at the program. "Clu is my program. I created him. You know what that means?"_

_He paused for a moment, looking at Ram expectantly. Just as the program was about to respond—he looked more frantic than he had when he first entered the room, that was for sure—he continued, allowing the edge in his voice to remain, "That means I know him better than you do." He stopped there even though he wanted to add "you worthless actuary." _

_An awkward silence descended upon them, and he couldn't help but notice that Ram was beginning to look angry. He had seen Clu and Tron angry many times, but Ram? Most of the time it seemed like nothing could wipe that smile off his face. But the smile was gone, replaced with an angry scowl and narrowed eyes. Before he could say anything, Ram broke the silence. "Look, Flynn, I've been patient with you, alright? I know the ISOs are your first priority, and that's fine. But for the love of the users you need to listen to me! Clu…Clu's changed." _

_A realization tore through Flynn as sharp as a knife. "This isn't even about Clu, is it?" he demanded as everything became clear. "This is about the fact you're worried I care more about the ISOs than the programs!"_

_Something in Ram must have snapped. Rage in his normally calm eyes, he yelled, "Flynn, you're not listening to me! This isn't about that; this is about how Clu isn't who you think he is!" And then his voice fell—as if he sensed he had failed to move the "creator"—and he added, pleading once more, "Please, Flynn, you've got to listen to me. For the sake of the system…" _

_He had heard enough and was about to throw that worthless program out of his office and tell him exactly what he thought of him, but Ram continued, a sad smirk on his face, "For the sake of your beloved ISOs…" _

"_What the hell are you trying to say, man?" he asked, a knot beginning to form in his stomach. Ram's just messing with me now, that's all it is, he thought, desperately trying to determine the root of the program's strange behavior. "What do the ISOs have to do with Clu?" _

"_You programmed Clu to create the perfect system," Ram said softly, the fear returning to his eyes. "But the ISOs…aren't perfect. And Clu…Clu's got a problem with imperfection. I'm…so sorry, Flynn." _

_No! That couldn't be true, he thought desperately, staring at the small program in disbelief. This had to be some cruel, sick joke, a futile attempt by a worthless program to get attention. He had to be wrong, and he wanted to tell him that, but all that came out was a small, helpless, "How…how do you know?" _

"_He…he looks at them like he looks at me," Ram answered, the fear present in his eyes once more, "with disgust. And…and I've heard things from other programs. They're something going on, some kind of uprising. The programs, especially Clu, don't…like the ISOs."_

_That was it? That was his lame excuse? That he had heard something from programs who admittedly didn't like the ISOs, that Clu didn't like him? That didn't mean anything!_

"_Damn it, Ram, none of that means anything! You're just jealous, man! A jealous little program who—should I remind you?—I restored!" he raged, getting up out of his seat for the first time to tower over the small program. "Get the hell out of my sight and don't come back until you really want to help me, understand?" _

_If a program could cry, he was certain Ram would have. He looked up at Flynn, a broken expression on his face, his wide eyes filled with deep sadness, his lower lip quivering slightly. He looked, for a moment, as if he was about to speak, but he said nothing and lowered his head. Without saying another word, he turned and let himself out, and he watched him go and didn't even try to stop him. _

_When the door slammed shut behind Ram, he returned to his desk to think about more important things. He hardly noticed when the door opened again, and he was torn from his thoughts by the sound of Clu's—and his own—voice: "Flynn, I just wanted to tell you that Tron and I eliminated the grid bug threat, just as you told us to." _

_Smiling to himself, he completely dismissed Ram's fears. Clu's a good, loyal program, he thought to himself. Unlike a certain actuary… _

_2009_

I

Quorra watched Flynn, trying to hide that she was worried about him. How many cycles had they spent in this house with nothing important to do but remain hidden? He was meditating again, and, even though he had explained the purpose of this practice to her countless times, she had to wonder what he was really thinking about. She hoped he was coming up with a plan to take down Clu, but she knew that wasn't the case.

Those days were over; they were going to hide forever.

Sighing deeply, she got up—she wasn't able to concentrate on meditating anyway—and was about to return to her room to read when Flynn called calmly, "Quorra, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she replied, biting her lip to keep from telling him what she was truly feeling. "I just wanted to go read, that's all."

Flynn turned around and, smiling at her, said softly, "No, that's not it. You're angry at me. Why is that?"

Quorra knew better than argue with him—he was a User after all, he would always win—but words began spilling out of her mouth anyway. "I just don't understand why we don't do something!" she exclaimed, releasing all of her pent up frustration. "You created this system; you could change everything back to the way it was!"

"Quorra," Flynn began but then something caught his attention and he stopped. He got to his feet and walked to the window that overlooked Tron City. In the distance, a light shined—it looked, to her at least, like Flynn's description of a sunset. She smiled unconsciously at the sight and turned to Flynn.

He looked stunned and slightly disturbed, not at all happy like the ISO. "Something's wrong, Q," he said softly, the fear he was clearly feeling unhidden for the first time in so long. "Somebody's opened the portal."

Finally some action, Quorra couldn't help but think. It's about time.

II

Everything was happening too fast. Sam hardly even understood what was happening. One moment he was sitting in his father's office, the next he was on what he knew must be the Grid his father always spoke of. It was amazing, to be sure, but something was clearly wrong with the place. There were hardly any programs around, and the moment he stepped outside of the digital version of his father's arcade, a Recognizer appeared out of nowhere.

After being captured by programs wearing strange outfits complete with orange circuitry, he was transported to a giant stadium and chosen to play in the "games." When one of the programs had been selected for the games, he had killed himself—a site that shocked and actually scared Sam. What's happening? he thought as he stared down at his new black armor.

He barely had time to consider the answer to his question because the platform he was on started moving. The next thing he knew, he was in some kind of holding area inside the stadium. There was a crowd—of what must be programs, he assumed—in the stands, and they were screaming. They're insane, he thought as he quickly took in the scene to get his bearings.

That was when he realized he was going to have to fight for his life…

III

Ram smirked from behind his mask. New kid, he thought, surprisingly happy. No problem. Even though the mask was tinted—he knew nobody could see his face—he could see out of it, and he quickly calculated that this match wasn't going to take long.

But…still…there was something different about the kid.

That can't be, he thought as he pulled the identity disc from his back. He can't be a User.

His gut told him something different; he felt the same way he had when he had first met Flynn. He knew the moment he saw him there was something different about him, and he knew there was something different about the kid he was about to fight as well.

When the match started—despite his misgivings—Ram didn't wait. Hurling his identity disc, he hoped it was going to be the quick match he had calculated it would be. Kid doesn't even know to rezz his helmet, he thought, holding back an amused snort.

The kid just barely missed being hit by his disc, and Ram caught it out of the air with ease. "What the hell's going on?" the kid yelled as he—finally, Ram snickered—rezzed his helmet and grabbed his identity disc.

When the kid flung his identity disc, Ram was ready. With the ease of the seasoned veteran he was, he grabbed the weak shot out of the air. He had two identity discs, the kid had none.

Without even thinking—fighting was, once again, ingrained deep within him—Ram flung the kid's identity disc into the back wall, causing it to ricochet right towards him. The kid ducked, but failed to get out of the way in time. The disc grazed his shoulder, and he let out a small, stunned yelp of pain.

But he didn't de-rezz.

Shocked, Ram strode towards him—easily catching the kid's disc in his hand as he did—a knot forming in his stomach. When he saw the blood, he knew.

The kid is a User, he thought, familiar panic beginning to course through him again. What do I do?


	4. Chapter 3

_Hey everybody! Things are finally starting to get interesting! I hope you enjoy the latest installment, and please review. Reviews make writers happy and keep them writing after all. Enjoy! ~Moore12~_

**Three**

_1992_

_I_

_He looked out over the system—his system, he reminded himself—and laughed. What was it that Ram had spat when he dragged him to his new home—a cell? That perfection couldn't possibly be realized? It could be attained, he knew that all along. And he had it in his very grasp. Ever since he had ordered the destruction of the ISOs—and Rinzler, his loyal servant, had carried it out—his system's future was looking brighter…and more perfect. _

_Still, he knew as well as any of his followers that there were still ISOs out there, hiding in the outlands or with sympathetic programs who naively believed they were doing the right thing. Threats to the perfection I was charged to create, he thought as he glanced over at Rinzler who gave him a short nod. _

"_Rinzler," he ordered, not even having to really think, "I want you to organize a patrol. If you find any ISOs, you know what to do with them." _

_Growling at the mention of the ISOs, Rinzler nodded again and then strode off, leaving him alone with his thoughts. What would Flynn say if he knew what Tron had become? he wondered to himself, chuckling at the reaction he pictured. He'd probably run away…oh, wait, he already has! _

_Aside from a handful of random attacks every now and again—mainly aimed at trying to save ISOs—Flynn had rarely been seen in the system he had so "lovingly" created. He knew that the "creator"—as he liked to be called, so naïve and power hungry, he knew—would soon go into hiding forever. It was a matter of time before he just gave up and accepted the rule of the program he had created. _

_When that happened, then everything would be perfect…Wouldn't it? _

_II _

_She ran because it was the only thing she could do. She had no idea what had given her away when she was always so careful not to attract attention to herself. Maybe she just looked suspicious; maybe one of the Clu's lackeys chasing her had a thing for her. She didn't know. But she knew as well as anyone what would happen if they caught her. _

_She wasn't going to let that happen. But she knew she couldn't run forever. She had to find somewhere to hide, had to lose them somehow. _

_When she opened a slight lead on them, she turned a corner and, instead of following the road, veered into a back alleyway without knowing where it led. With a pang, she realized it led to nowhere—a worthless dead end. _

_Panic coursing through her, she sunk into the shadows and waited, hoping they would just follow the road and not even bother to check the alleyway. She unhooked the identity disc from her back—she wasn't going down without a fight if it came to that—and waited, listening to the sound of voices coming towards her. And then they faded into the distance—they had gone straight; her ruse had actually worked. _

_That was when she heard the low rumble of a familiar growl, and she knew it was over. She was alone, in a dead end alleyway, with Rinzler. Still, she had a chance; she, after all, had the element of surprise on her hands. Slowly, she moved through the shadows—careful not to make a sound—to get a better angle on Rinzler. Or could she possibly slip out unnoticed? _

_It was too late to run; when she took a step, her damn shoe squeaked, and Rinzler started. He knew she was there; he knew. She would have to fight and hope she got out alive. Not that anybody did, she thought bleakly. Nobody's ever gotten away from Rinzler. So many disappearances, so many deresolutions…all because of him. _

_She wouldn't be added to that list, she told herself. _

_She was about to spring at Rinzler, but he beat her to it. Tackling her with ease to the ground—his growling roaring in her ears—he brought one of his identity discs to her throat. So much for putting up a fight, she thought to herself bitterly as she stared deresolution in the face. He's too strong. _

_With a pang, she realized that Rinzler wasn't going to just de-rezz her and be done with it. No, he was going to see to it that she suffered before she de-rezzed—he was planning on torturing her. And he did. She had never been in so much pain in her life. _

_And, as everything slowly began to fade to black, she felt a hand. A hand that wasn't Rinzler's, a hand that made her feel safe…gave her hope. _

_She didn't feel alone… _

_2009 _

I

Ram knew he would have to move fast if he was going to get both of them out of there alive. He knew as well as any conscript trying to escape was futile—he had tried once long ago only to be surrounded by a group of guards led by Rinzler—but part of him knew this time could be different. He had the advantage, the element of surprise, in the form of the User he was fighting.

Slowly, he circled the User, trying to make it appear for the crowd and for Clu that he was just mocking his opponent before de-rezzing him. "Listen to me," he whispered, keeping his voice as low as possible. "I'm going to help you get outta here."

"And I'm supposed to believe that!" the User yelled, backing away from him on his hands and knees. "After you almost killed me!"

Ram had no choice; he lunged at the User with all his might and pinned him to the ground, attaching his identity disc to his back once more. The User struggled, and it was surprisingly difficult to keep him under control. "Would you shut up and listen to me?" he seethed in a whisper. "I'm trying to help you! I'm gonna get you outta here! Stop struggling!"

Knowing that it was going to be near impossible to reason with the panicked User—who, he knew, probably wanted to de-rezz him—he knew he had to resort to plan B. If I can't get him to follow me, he thought to himself, a smirk forming on his face, I'll make him.

With his free hand, he struck the easily breakable floor with his identity disc, causing it to shatter underneath their combined weight. "What the hell are you doing, man?" the User screamed as the floor gave way.

As they plummeted through the air—which was both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time for Ram—the User managed to gain the advantage. Spinning in midair, he ended up on top Ram, and, to add insult to injury, pinned the program's arms behind him which caused him to drop his identity disc. "Not so much fun is it, man?" the User laughed, grinning at him in a way that was vaguely familiar. "Now, I'll just use you to break my fall…"

Why in the name of the Users will nobody listen to me? Ram seethed as they continued their free fall. I'll just have to try again and hope this doesn't de-rezz me…

"Look," he yelled to be heard over the roaring wind and the now raucous crowd. "I know what you are! I'm trying to help you! Don't do this!"

"You know what I am?" the User stared at him with awe, and Ram knew then he had made a breakthrough. For some reason, he couldn't help but smile; despite everything he had been through because of some damn know-it-all User, it still felt right to help one.

"Yeah," he yelled forcefully—they were about to hit one of the other compartments—hoping to get his point across in time. "You're a User! Now let me go so I can help you!"

To his surprise, the User actually let go of him just in time. Flipping himself over—so he wouldn't land on his head—he could only wait for impact which, based on the height they had fallen from, he calculated would de-rezz him.

That's what you get for helping a User, he thought bitterly right before slamming into the compartment with such force the ceiling—which was supposed to be unbreakable—shattered.

II

Sam hit the ground inside the compartment with a thud. For a moment, he just lay there, wondering how he had managed to live through that and how the floor had held up. I just can't lie here forever, he told himself. Get up, Sam.

Groaning with pain, he pulled himself to his feat and looked around. The program who he had been fighting—who was the reason for their free fall, even if he did keep claiming he was trying to help—lay a few feet away on his stomach, completely still. Is he dead? Sam wondered as he took two shaky steps towards the small program, stopping only to retrieve the program's identity disc that had, fortunately, fallen in the compartment as well. For a moment, he contemplated just leaving him there—he was, after all, definitely close to death—but then he saw the program stir. "Hey, man, are you alright?" he asked as he crouched down at the program's side.

"Wha…wha' happened?" the little program asked as he sat up. Sam still couldn't see his face behind that damn mask—which unsettled him—but the program seemed to have remembered everything that had happened because he exclaimed "We gotta get outta here…now!" as he pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his identity disc.

It was only then Sam noticed the sound of the alarm pulsing through the arena, only then he heard the voice of the announcer ordering them to stop. "Come on!" the little program yelled, breaking Sam from his trance.

"Release Rinzler!"

The words boomed through the stadium, and the crowd cheered wildly. The small program stopped dead in his tracks at the order—which had come from a strangely familiar voice, Sam thought—and growled, his voice unusually shaky, "Whatever you do, stay behind me."

III

Sometimes Quorra couldn't believe Flynn. "Are you serious?" she asked, her voice nearly a yell. "You want us to stay here and not check it out?"

"Quorra, sometimes patience is best," Flynn murmured as he settled back down on his yoga mat. "Sometimes, you shouldn't rush into things, especially if you don't know what's going to happen."

Quorra couldn't believe what she was hearing. The portal was open, and Flynn didn't even want her to see what was happening? Who was this man? Flynn had saved her life—mainly because of his willingness to dive head first into the unknown—and he wanted to play it safe when the portal was open?

"Are you out of your mind?" she yelled, her rage finally starting to get to her. "The portal is open! We need to check it out!"

"You're really starting to mess with my Zen thing, Q," Flynn muttered grumpily without even turning around to look at her. He can't even look at me, Quorra thought bitterly, trying to think of an appropriate response that would make him see the error of his ways. What's he hiding from? Does he not want to leave or something?

That was when it hit her; that was when she knew what to say to get him to allow her to go see what was happening. "What if it's your son?" she asked innocently, trying to hide her smile. "The portal has to be opened from the outside, right? So what if it's Sam? What if he's in trouble?"

"That can't be," Flynn whispered, and Quorra knew right then she had him just where she wanted him. "Why would he come here?"

"Let me go see what's happening," Quorra said gently, taking advantage of Flynn's confusion and fear. "I promise I won't be seen…unless I have to be."

"Go ahead, Q," Flynn said vacantly, as if he was lost in thought and truly not thinking about what he was saying. "Just be careful."

Careful? For some reason she already knew she would have to throw that order out the window…


	5. Chapter 4

_I just wanted to clarify something before this chapter. In this it's assumed that the "everyone dies" format of disc battles was a response to Ram's fairly improbable survival (Rinzler's first battle was against Ram (seen in the first 1999 flashback)). I also assumed that the "everyone dies" format doesn't always happen because, otherwise, there really wouldn't be enough competitors. It happens when Clu wants it to happen (i.e. when he really wants to de-rezz a program involved). Otherwise, the winner stays alive, ala in the first movie. I hope that clarifies some things, and I hope you're all enjoying this. More answers will be revealed…and please review. I love getting advice ~Moore12~ _

**Four **

_1999_

_I_

"_He can't be alive!" his master raged, pacing around the room in aimless circles. "That's impossible!" _

_He watched his master from behind the tinted shield of his helmet, trying to process what was irritating him so much. He had seen his master angry, yes, but he couldn't fully calculate why he was so upset now. To him, it just didn't compute why this was such a big problem when there were so many other things to worry about…namely those damn ISOs and Flynn. One conscript living when he wasn't supposed to? He'd de-rezz eventually so who cared? _

_His master did. Turning on him, he yelled, "I told you to de-rezz him! And what did you do?" _

_He knew better than to growl at his master, so he just stood there and listened to his latest rant quietly. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't argue with him—he was programmed not to argue with his master, just to take orders. But…still…this didn't compute. _

"_You had him!" his master continued, stalking over to where he stood. "You had him, and you didn't finish him off! Why?" _

_Why? He had never stopped to wonder why he didn't de-rezz that conscript, why he didn't finish him off like his master told him to after wrecking his face. Was it that he didn't de-rezz him or that…he couldn't? _

_His CPU balked at the thought. He knew he could de-rezz any program, ISO or User that stood in the way of his master's vision. That was what he was programmed to do, that was his sole purpose. He knew that because he was his purpose; a program was only his purpose, he knew, and nothing more. _

_So why couldn't he de-rezz that conscript? Why had it felt like his CPU was at war with itself when he stared that conscript in the face while preparing to de-rezz him? _

_His CPU felt like it was burning, and then he knew. He knew that conscript from somewhere. He knew him. He was…was…_

"_Rinzler," his master growled, glaring at him viciously as he circled him. "I'll give you a chance to redeem yourself. I've heard rumor of a band of rebels stirring up trouble at the End of the Line Club. I want them taken care of, understood?" _

_He understood. That order computed, and he calculated quickly that this would be a fairly straightforward and simple mission. Nodding in the affirmative, he stalked away from his master, leaving all of his questions unanswered and entirely forgotten…_

_II _

_He stirred—his circuits flickering painfully back to life. At first, he didn't know where he was and honestly didn't care; his pain was too great for him to have any concern for his location. Finally, the pain subsided enough for him to haul himself into a sitting position and look around. _

_As memories flooded back to him—the memory of Rinzler de-rezzing his mask and revealing his true identity cut through him like a knife—and, for a moment, he thought he had been de-rezzed. He couldn't possibly be alive, not after what had happened to him. His CPU throbbed as he tried to make sense of what had happened to him._

_Once he figured out that he was back in his cell, he knew he was still alive even though that made absolutely no sense to him. As he gazed around the familiar cell—staring at the lines that covered the walls as he always did upon his return from the games—he realized something that startled him. _

_There was something wrong with his vision. It felt as if he only had tunnel vision and nothing more; the gap in his vision terrified him, and part of him didn't even want to know what was wrong because he was afraid of what he might find. _

_Slowly, he reached up and touched the right side of his face and made a shocking and gruesome discovery. From what he could tell, Rinzler's—no, Tron's, he remembered with a pang—identity disc had left him without his eye and had left that entire side of his face dented and scarred. He ran his fingers across the damaged—no, completely destroyed, he thought miserably—coding, wincing with pain. This can't be happening, he thought as he stared vacantly at the wall. This can't be happening. _

_Finally—after a long period of anguishing over what had happened—he decided that, since he was still alive, he would keep fighting. He had to. He would keep fighting and would eventually expose Clu as the tyrant he was. _

_All I need is a new mask, he thought, trying his best to smile. But, for once, no smile came. _

_III _

"_I need a damned drink," Clu muttered darkly without any form of an introduction as soon as he sat down at the bar. _

"_Long day at the office, huh?" he asked, smiling at his "favorite" customer. Well, the only customer who offered him the chance to become a program of great influence in the system. "Don't tell me it's another grid bug infestation?" _

"_Shut up and make me a drink, Castor," Clu growled, glaring up at him as only Clu could. What was it about the program that gave him the creeps? _

_It felt unusual to make a drink in silence, but he did so because of Clu's request. As soon as the drink was done, he slid it across the bar to Clu, who didn't seem at all amused by his antics as he usually was. "So…" he began as he watched the administrator almost down the drink in one gulp. "Is the problem anything I should keep an eye out for?" _

"_What word in 'shut up' did you not get, man?" Clu snarled before drinking the last gulps in his drink and sliding it back across the bar at him. "Now make me another." _

"_Jeez, what's gotten into you?" he grumbled just aloud enough for Clu to hear as he made him his next drink. _

_As soon as he was done with that drink, Clu answered the question. "You remember that stupid little program you helped me lock up?" _

_Intrigued, he sidled over to where Clu sat and replied, "But of course I remember Ram. Nice, naïve little program. Didn't he de-rezz cycles ago?" _

"_No," Clu yelled, his voice filled with such rage. "And you want to know why? Rinzler couldn't de-rezz him!" _

_And as he listened to Clu rant, he knew he finally had something he could hold over the administrator's head to obtain what he wanted so badly. _

_2009_

I

Rinzler landed in the compartment on his feet with ease and quickly surveyed the scene. With a cursory glance, he calculated that the young looking program wouldn't give him any trouble. Too inexperienced, doesn't know his strength, he reasoned.

As for the other, though he was small, Rinzler could tell he was dangerous, a seasoned veteran who knew what it took to get out of such battles alive. Even though he couldn't see his face—it was, like his own, hidden behind the dark tinting of his mask—he could sense the program was sizing him up. That alone made him the first target.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing, man?" the younger program exclaimed as he removed his identity disc from his back.

The little program didn't respond; Rinzler watched as he slowly started walking towards him, his identity disc at his side. "Hey, Tron, fancy seeing you here!" the little program called in a mocking tone, confusing Rinzler. Tron? Tron? The name did not compute.

"That's right, Rinzler, I know who you really are," the little program continued, still using that mocking tone, but now calling him by his name which served to confuse him even more. Rinzler watched him as he circled, spinning his identity disc idly. "Are you confused yet?"

Was he even planning on fighting him, or was he just going to continue mocking him? Rinzler watched his opponent carefully, studying his movement. He was walking with a slight limp—the fall, he calculated, must have damaged his coding more than he's letting on. A sneer beginning to form on his lips, Rinzler realized that the little program was talking to stall, was talking to delay the inevitable. It was all talk, and no truth, mere mind games.

He wasn't going to fall for it. In one movement—precise and deadly—he removed the identity discs from his back and hurled them in quick succession at the renegade conscript. The little program seemed to see it coming because he artfully dodged the first and blocked the second with his own disc. "That all you got, Tron?" he laughed.

Rinzler—beginning to grow more and more furious—grabbed both of his discs out of the air and calculated that it would be best to go after the younger program first. He reasoned that the little program who was taunting him would slip up upon seeing the program he was naively trying to save attacked. That was the appropriate plan…

II

It's working, Ram thought to himself, fighting back a smile. I'm actually confusing him, keeping him from fighting. But he knew from experience that at any moment everything could change, and he could sense something was wrong.

Rinzler was staring at the User, and he was growling. Ram's smiled faded in an instant as he tried to figure out what he should do. It's too late for this, he thought desperately. Just do something!

Without even thinking, he hurled his identity disc at Rinzler as he backpedaled to adequately cover the User. As expected, Rinzler caught his identity disc but instead of hurling it back at him, he tossed it to the corner. This can't be happening, Ram thought miserably, feeling naked without the protection of his disc.

"Give me your disc," he ordered the User as soon as he was within an arm's length of him. He wasn't really thinking straight because of the panic coursing through him, admittedly, but he couldn't think of anything else to do.

"Are you nuts?" the User protested, staring at him like he was corrupted or something. "How the hell will I protect myself?"

Suppressing a Rinzler-esque growl, Ram did something he never thought he would. He had been hoping to get the User out of there, but, at the moment, it appeared the only way that would be possible was to expose him for what he was. In one quick, precise movement, he grabbed the User by arm, secured his identity disc for his own use, and pulled him in front of his body.

Even though the User struggled—swearing at him like a madmen—Ram knew he couldn't get away. He was holding him firm with his arms pinned behind his back.

It felt so wrong.

"He's a User!" Ram yelled, even though it was nearly impossible to do so because it made him feel like such a traitor. "He's a User!"

And, as Clu called off Rinzler over the loudspeakers, Ram knew he had bought the User time even though he had betrayed him to do so. The only thing uncertain was what his own fate would be.

III

"Dad?" The word caught in Sam's throat. He hadn't spoken it in so long, and now he was staring his father in the face. "Dad, is that you?"

After being escorted by Rinzler—and a handful of other guards—from the compartment to a large spacious room overlooking the entire arena, he was confronted by a program who had to be the leader. Like the program called Rinzler—or was it Tron? he was confused—and the little program who had gotten him into this predicament, this program was wearing a dark shield over his face. But he was different—he had on a cape, and his circuitry was yellow. And, when he de-rezzed that mask, it revealed a person—not a program—Sam had thought he would never see again.

"Hey, kiddo," his father smiled at him warmly. "How have you been?"


	6. Chapter 5

_Hey, guys, here's the latest chapter. There's just one thing you should know. I can't tell by the movie or in any of the writings about it if the End of the Line Club serves the program version of alcohol. So, since this is a rewrite (and, in some places, isn't even canon) I decided to make it into a traditional night club/bar, and that programs can go there to get drunk. So please no flames. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and please review! I really do want to hear what you think... ~Moore12~ _

**Five **

_1989_

_He walked into the club, not caring at all what anybody thought of him. He knew as well as anyone that he didn't really belong there, but he needed a drink desperately and the End of the Line Club was said to have the best drinks in the city. So what if it was also said to be the hang out of some of the shadiest programs in town—programs who were hostile to the "great" creator Flynn? _

_He wasn't Flynn, and he didn't even know if he was on Flynn's side anymore._

_The User's betrayal still stung, and he almost didn't notice that most of the programs in the joint had looked up from what they were doing to get a good look at him—the moral compass of the "great" creator, the "voice" of the programs…that nobody even bothered to listen to. Keeping his head down, he tried to ignore the stares. That's right, he thought bitterly. Here I am. Surprised? _

"_Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Zuse emerged from behind the bar to greet him, that fake smile of his plastered on his face. Normally, the site of the barkeep—who was far more than that, he knew too well—would be enough put him on edge, but now it just made him feel relieved. "Make yourself at home, Ram." _

_Shrugging hopelessly—he really didn't want all this attention and certainly wasn't going to make himself at home—he forced a smile and followed Zuse to a seat at the corner of the bar. As soon as he sat down, Zuse launched into a laundry list of all the different drinks he could order. "Just make me something," he muttered as he stared at his reflection in the counter, wondering what he was doing there. To his own amazement, the thought that this was wrong wasn't enough to make him get up and leave. _

_Zuse handed him his drink—still smiling that damn smile, he thought bitterly—and asked the question he was hoping he wouldn't: "So, what brings you here, Ram? Rumor has it you don't drink." _

_That was true. He hadn't had a drink in his life. Tron always joked he wouldn't be able to handle it, and Flynn claimed that, since he was a smaller program, it probably wouldn't be good for him. Besides, he had never felt the need to drink; he was perfectly content being the designated driver for Tron when, on occasion, he just needed to escape everything. And now he himself needed to escape; he could only hope this would be everything it was cracked up to be. _

"_Really?" he mumbled as he picked up the glass—filled with clear liquid that looked almost like pure energy—and took a hesitant sip. It didn't taste like he thought it would, but still…it was good. Just what I needed, he thought happily as he took another sip. _

"_Well, I guess that's not the case," Zuse laughed after he finished the first drink. "I'm assuming you'll want another because, well, you can't just ever have one!"_

_Deep down inside, he knew he probably shouldn't have another drink. Even though he was furious at Flynn, he had to admit he was probably right about him being too small to handle too many drinks. He had only had one drink, but he was already starting to feel slightly lightheaded. Or was that the buzz Tron talked about? Yeah, that has to be it, he thought. "Sure, why not?" he laughed, beginning to loosen up. _

_He drowned his pain, drowned his sorrows. It felt so good, and he didn't understand why everybody had told him he couldn't handle it. Grinning at Zuse—why had he ever distrusted him when he made such good drinks?—he ordered his fourth drink. _

_When Zuse handed him his fourth drink of the night, he didn't leave like he normally did. "So, Ram," he said secretively, still smiling at him, "what brings you here tonight? It's great to have you, but…you're not exactly a regular if you get what I'm saying." _

_He didn't feel too good. His processors felt like they had slowed tremendously. But…still…he felt better than he had; still felt the buzz he had hoped he would. And he couldn't see anything wrong with talking to Zuse. He needed to talk—release all his frustration and anger—and Zuse wanted to listen. Why not? he thought as he took a slug of his new drink. What can it hurt? _

"_It's Flynn," he blurted out, only partially surprised by how quickly he gave away his secret. "He…he just never listens to me, man!" _

_Zuse shook his head, a frown beginning to form on his face. "He doesn't listen to you? Why, that doesn't sound like Flynn…"_

_Even though he knew the barkeep was about to continue, he cut him off, his voice slurred and excited at the same time, "I know! But he won't even…even hear me out, man! I mean, seriously, man, if you ever try to say like…" He hiccupped and then continued without even stopping to think about what he was saying, "Like…anything bad about Clu, he'll like…de-rezz ya, you know? Even if…if you're like right!" _

_That was when he felt an arm coil around his shoulders. Startled, he almost jumped out of his seat, but, instead, he turned to face the program who had dared touch him. _

_Clu smiled back at him. "Now why would anybody want to say anything bad about me?" he asked innocently. _

_2009 _

I

For the first time in so long, Flynn couldn't concentrate on his mediation. His mind began to wander—treading through painful memory after painful memory. One moment, he would see his son—see himself cradling him as an infant. The next, he would think back on the friends he had lost because of his…stupidity. Tron, Ram, even Clu…he had lost them all. More importantly, he had essentially lost his chance to change the world—to show everybody the error of their ways. Flynn, you old fool, he thought sadly. You thought you could achieve perfection, and that's the worst thing you could possibly do.

Sighing deeply, he got to his feet and looked around the digitized house he had called home for far too long. Even though he had created everything a man could possibly want to furnish his home, it never felt like home. No, it felt like a prison—he had lost both of his homes long ago, and he would probably never see them again.

Still, he knew this was where he belonged. If he tried to resist Clu, he would just fuel his anger and put Quorra at risk. He wasn't about to take that chance; he had stopped playing Clu's little games and that was how it was going to stay.

And, yet, he had to wonder if he was about to be sucked back into Clu's games, if everything he had worked to protect would once more be put in danger. The portal was…open. Even if he didn't want to admit it, he knew that spelled trouble.

What's Clu planning now? he wondered as he stared out over Tron City. And how the hell did the portal open?

Somehow, he already knew the answer to the second question…

II

Clu smiled at the young User, well aware of what his being there meant for him. He had never in his wildest dreams thought that Ram's message to Alan One would be answered so quickly and by Flynn's son none the less. When Flynn finds out, he thought giddily, he'll wish he never gave that stupid little actuary the ability to communicate directly with Alan.

"Dad," the User exclaimed, his smile so innocent. "Dad, I can't believe it's really you!"

"Yeah, it's me, kiddo," Clu walked over to the User and slapped him on the back. "You're big now. Wow, I must have lost track of time!"

Something about that comment must have upset the User because he gave him a dark look and scowled. Looks just like his old man, Clu thought, laughing to himself about what he was planning on doing to the naïve brat. I wonder if he'll give up as easy. "You lost track of time?" the User asked, his voice filled with pain, with anger. "You want me to believe that? That's your excuse? Dad…it's been twenty years…"

"Really it's been that long?" Clu laughed. He was just about to give up his charade but he was, in all honesty, enjoying breaking the User's heart too much to do so just yet. Besides, he needed to pump him for information, and he could only do that while pretending he was his father. "I never would've known, kiddo. Time does move faster here after all…Now, let me get a look at your disc..."

As soon as Rinzler handed him the User's disc, he activated it and looked over the User's information. Sam Flynn, he read, something about being paged. It worked too well, Clu thought triumphantly before handing Rinzler back the disc to give to the User. The game's on, Flynn.

"Dad…" the User's voice trailed off, probably stunned by Clu's nonchalance and interest in his disc and not him. "Dad, why didn't you ever come back?"

"Well, kiddo, there's a simple answer to that question," Clu grinned, ready to give up his ruse because he had already torn at the User's heartstrings and gotten all the information he wanted. "I'm not your father."

III

Clu wants me alive after all, Ram realized with a start as he watched the unsettling scene unfold before his eyes. Even though he was extremely worried about what his own future held—the guards who had dragged him up to the room were still holding him fast—he was just incapable of processing why Clu had to toy with the poor User.

Still, he had to admit he had bigger things to worry about than the User's, who was Flynn's son, he now knew, apparently fragile psyche. Sighing deeply, he kicked himself for ending up in this situation. They probably knew there was something different about him off the bat, he thought bitterly, and had me fight him to prove it.

But that didn't make any sense, and he knew it. He knew Clu and his stupid lackeys didn't have a clue there was a User in their midst, and he knew it was just by chance that he had been the one to fight him. And—what was it that Flynn had said about him all those cycles ago?—being the worthless program he was, he had walked Sam right into a trap. Things weren't going to end well…for either of them.

From underneath the black tint of his face shield, he watched Clu carefully, wondering if he had forgotten about him. Maybe I could take out the guards and run, he thought, smirking. Right…that'll end well, Ram. But would de-rezzing again really be that bad?

"Well, Ram, I've got to say," Clu turned to him—tearing him from his cynical thoughts—and laughed, "not de-rezzing you was the best decision I ever made."

"Oh really, is that so?" Ram snarled—wondering if Clu was actually being serious—as he went on the defensive yet again. "Aren't I messing with your perfect system by still being here?"

Clu just laughed, and Ram watched him, dread building within him. He laughed as if Ram had said the funniest thing he had ever heard, laughing like Flynn did when Ram first suggested that maybe Zuse wasn't really on their side. This couldn't be happening; it wasn't happening…

"I gotta give you credit, man," Clu snickered as he strode over to where he stood and slapped Ram on the back. "You turned out to be useful after all, which means there might be some hope for you yet."


	7. Chapter 6

_Hey all, I hope you enjoy the latest chapter. Anyway, please review. I really want to hear what you all think about this, and I'm starting to wonder if I should even keep writing this. I'm really enjoying this story, and I hope you are too. Enjoy! R&R! ~Moore12~ _

**Six**

_1985_

_I_

"_I don't know, man," Flynn murmured, glancing up at him with an uncharacteristically concerned look on his face. "I don't know if bringing him back is the right thing to do." _

_Why was Flynn hesitant to bring back a program who was his friend? It just didn't make any sense to him, who would have—if he had Flynn's powers—brought him back without even stopping to think about it. "Come on, Flynn," he replied, trying to hide his frustration. "He's a good program, a typical program. He's not a monitor, he's not an admin. He's just an everyday program. He could…well, represent the programs." _

"_Tron, I just don't know, alright?" Flynn shook his head, as if remembering painful events from the past. "What if it happens again?"_

_He understood—Flynn had let slip what he was really afraid of. As if realizing that himself, the User added, trying his best to sound casual, "Besides, I don't even know if Roy has him backed up. And if he doesn't, what are the odds he'll remember his coding, man? What if…"_

_He wasn't about to let Flynn continue, blurting out pointless excuse after pointless excuse when none of them really mattered. He had to tell him how he really felt, even if it hurt him to do so. _

"_Look, Flynn, I know what you're really afraid of. What happened with Yori…" he sighed deeply, the name of the program he loved—and lost—caught in his throat. Composing himself the best he could, he continued, "I miss her so much… But what happened to her doesn't mean we shouldn't try to bring Ram back." _

_The User tried to smile, but no smile came. What was it about restoring programs that made him so uneasy? Why was he so willing to create but wouldn't recreate? "I just don't know, man. I just…" Flynn's eyes flashed and he asked the question he was hoping he wouldn't, "How would you feel if I restored you after you de-rezzed?" _

_Suppressing a growl of frustration, he replied, "I wouldn't know how I would feel because I haven't de-rezzed. Besides, don't you think he'd be happy to get a second chance?"_

_That's right, I just turned the tables, he thought triumphantly as Flynn's face fell. Watching the User carefully, he decided it would be best to continue this thought after all. "Come on, Flynn, we need a little help, don't you think? When you're not here, Clu and I can't handle everything!" _

"_I'll think about it," Flynn muttered, clearly aware he had lost this battle. "But I'm not guaranteeing anything!" _

_Somehow, he already knew the User would bring back his old friend. If it worked—which he wanted more than anything to happen—they would have a lot of explaining to do…_

_II _

_He watched intently as the little program's circuits flickered weakly to life, hoping that everything would go smoothly. He couldn't help but smile as he remembered Roy's reaction when he asked for the coding of his old RAM program. _

"_Flynn, is there something you're not telling me?" he had asked, even though it was clear he already knew he wouldn't be getting an answer. "What do you need with an outdated actuarial program, anyway?" _

_It had taken a little while for him to determine what modifications he would have to make to Ram's programming for him to fit the system. The new system was far more advanced than the old one and he knew from experience that introducing an outdated program to the system spelled trouble. He had learned that the hard way… _

_On top of the modifications he had to make for Ram to fit the system, he had also spent some time giving him some new functions he knew would come in handy in his new role. Ram's not just going to be an actuary anymore; he's going to be a co-admin so he'll need to be able to do more, he had reasoned. Aside from giving him the ability to contact Alan and a few other key Encom programmers, he had made it so he could perform nearly every administrative function. _

_Now all he could do was wait and hope for the best. He figured he had done enough, but he couldn't be sure until Ram was up and running. This place really needs more order, he thought as he continued to watch the program that was still in the midst of being restored. _

"_How's it going?" Tron let himself into the office—without knocking as usual—and glanced down at the shell of what would (hopefully) be his old friend. _

"_So far, so good," he murmured, trying not to allow himself to pat himself on the pack until he was certain Ram would function properly. "He should reboot soon." _

_They waited for what felt like an eternity before the little program stirred. With a pained groan, he cracked open one eye. Blinking—a confused expression on his face—he tried to sit up but fell back to the ground. _

"_Wha'…wha' happened?" Ram murmured as he stared down at his arms in shock—must not even recognize himself, he thought with a small pang of regret. _

"_Hey, take it easy man," he got up and walked over to where the little program was lying, still struggling to sit up. "It's going to take some time for all your functions to start running at full capacity, but we're here for you." _

_Taking the small program by the shoulders, he helped him into a sitting position. Ram stared at him in wonder—his eyes wide and unguarded…just as they had been when he de-rezzed—and whispered, "Flynn?" _

"_Yeah, I'm here, Ram," he replied, smiling warmly at the little program. _

_He was about to add that Tron was there as well, but Ram spoke before he could. Still staring at him in awe—in a way, it felt like the program was practically worshipping him—he asked almost reverently, "You…you rewrote me?" _

"_Of course, Ram," he smiled at him—trying to hide that he was slightly embarrassed by how the program was acting, "Now, there's somebody else here who wants to see you." _

_III_

_After practically falling all over himself—just being rewritten, he barely knew anything about his functions—he was led to a small room in the back of Flynn's "workshop." He still couldn't fully believe this was happening; couldn't believe it even as he hugged Tron, couldn't believe it even as he asked Flynn question after question about the "new system." _

"_Slow down, man," Flynn had laughed as he asked him yet another question about the system, this one about the light shining off in the distance. "I'll answer all your questions, but right now you really need to take it easy." _

_Even though he was still fairly unsure of himself—and as tired as ever—he was excited. He had been rewritten, been given a second chance in a new system filled with boundless opportunities. The old crew was back together again, and nothing could stop them! _

_And everything was so amazing…The Grid looked so…different—he could tell that just by looking out the window. It looked the way he had always pictured a User city. "You made all this?" he asked, staring at Flynn in wonder yet again. _

"_Well, with a little help from my friends," Flynn replied, glancing over at Tron with—what was that look?—a worried look on his face. "Speaking of which…" _

"_Flynn," called a voice that sounded exactly like the User's, "I looked into the reports of there being unusual activity in the Outlands, and everything is running smoothly." _

"_Clu, could you come here for a minute?" Flynn replied as he glanced back at Tron, a reassuring look on his face. Tron? Tron looked more than a little nervous._

_For the first time, distrust filled him. What are they not telling me? he had to wonder. And who's Clu? And what does he got to do with anything? _

_He didn't have to wait long to find out the answer to the question because—almost immediately after Flynn called for him—a program entered the room. And he looked exactly like Flynn—looked like he could be his copy or backup. But…that didn't make any sense, did it? _

"_Clu," Flynn said steadily, not even addressing him anymore, he realized with a pang. "This is Ram. Tron and I knew him from the old system, and, well, I rewrote him to help out around here." _

_Clu gave him a cursory and fairly judgmental—who does he calculate he is? he wondered—before returning his full attention to Flynn. "Flynn, is this what you Users call…a joke?" _

"_Well, I'd say nice to meet you," he cut in before Flynn could respond to his stupid program, his cynical side coming out, "But not after that." _

"_Ram, come on, let me show you to your room," Tron said anxiously, clearly trying to change the subject and also separate him and Clu. But he wasn't about to obediently follow his old friend when he had been challenged, when he was being called a "joke." _

_He was about to speak again, but Clu got the last word. "Things in this system are already starting to go downhill," he grumbled as he glared down at him, a contemptuous sneer on his face. _

_Somehow, he already knew he had yet again made a powerful enemy. _

_2009 _

Even though Jarvis wasn't afraid of the program—there was no way he'd be able to escape or resist being repurposed—there was something about him that was just unsettling. Clu had trusted him to take care of Ram on his own while he went to eliminate the User on the light cycle grid, and he wasn't going to mess this up. It was his first real chance to show Clu that he was able to step up and take more responsibility and, maybe, just maybe, Clu would finally treat him with a little respect.

"Not so tough without your identity disc are you?" Jarvis sneered as he walked over to where Ram stood. Spinning the soon-to-be-repurposed program's disc idly on his finger, he continued, chuckling as he did, "Well, don't worry, Ram. Soon you'll be tougher than ever."

He could mock him with ease, but he still couldn't figure out what it was about him that was so unsettling, so threatening. Maybe it's that face shield, he realized. I can't see his face, so I don't know what he's up to. "De-rezz the mask," he ordered.

With an annoyed huff—why does he care so much about the face shield when he's about to get repurposed? Jarvis had to wonder—the little program de-rezzed his mask. The whole right side of his face was severely damaged, and his right eye was missing. It was site that made Jarvis shudder even though he had heard about what had happened many cycles ago. "Happy?" Ram muttered, a—it couldn't be!—a smirk on his thin face.

He could hear the roar of the crowd outside—the light cycle match must have started—and, when he looked back at Ram he noticed that he was, in fact, smirking. He was about to be repurposed, was being held between two guards, and he was smirking? It just didn't compute.

"What are you so happy about?" Jarvis demanded—beginning to grow irritated with his charge—as he strode over to where the little program stood and slapped him across the face. "Wipe that stupid smirk off your face or I'll de-rezz you instead."

"Jarvis," one of the guards said softly, a slightly nervous look in his eyes. "Maybe we should just get it over with…"

Jarvis barely heard the guard and wasn't about to listen to him. Because—he still couldn't believe this was happening—that stupid little actuarial program was laughing. He was laughing at him to his face, laughing at him like he was the most hilarious thing he had ever seen. "You'll de-rezz me?" he laughed, practically howling. "You'll de-rezz me? Has your CPU gone on the fritz or something, man? User, wow, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!"

"You think I can't de-rezz you right now?" Jarvis yelled, thrusting Ram's identity disc in his face. "You can't get away! I've got your disc! What can you possibly do?"

The little program stopped laughing, but his smirk had transformed into a sneer. "What I meant," he stated rather innocently, "is that you couldn't de-rezz me by yourself."

"Oh really, is that so?" Jarvis snarled, his rage building inside of him. "You don't think a program like me could eliminate a stupid little actuary like you? Do you know who I am?"

He wasn't going to be intimidated or let that stupid, damaged actuarial program mock him. He was about to continue—about to tell him all about his credentials and why he was far superior to him—but Ram cut him off.

Something about his appearance had changed, Jarvis noticed. He was still wearing that smirk, but he was more unsettling than ever. His good eye was looking him over coldly, calculatingly. "Yeah, I know who you are," the little program said softly as he looked him right in the eyes. "And you couldn't de-rezz me by yourself if you tried 'cause you're a coward."


	8. Chapter 7

_Hey everybody! Here's the latest installment (and the moment you've all been waiting for). Anyway, I'm starting to get writer's block, so reviews are much appreciated because they help to inspire me. So R&R and enjoy! ~Moore12~ _

**S****even **

_1989_

_I_

_What had he done? What was he becoming? _

_He watched mutely as Clu dragged Ram out of the club with ease; even though Ram was struggling, he knew he couldn't possibly get away because how intoxicated he was. "Thanks for the message, man!" Clu called triumphantly, even though his voice remained strangely cold and detached. _

_Moments later, Clu, still dragging the poor little program behind him, got onto the elevator, and he could only watch as the doors ominously slid shut behind them. What had he done? _

_He knew the moment he messaged Clu what he was doing, but he hadn't cared. He knew that, by messaging the administrator, he was practically handing Ram over for deresolution. And he hadn't cared. He had done it almost without thinking, had done it without contemplating what would happen to the poor program who had stepped into a trap just because he needed a drink. _

_That'll teach him not to drink, he thought dryly as he went back to work in an attempt to stop thinking about what he had just done. Sighing deeply, he found that even working didn't release him from his thoughts, didn't help him forget what he had just done. _

_Why had he done it? What was it reasoning behind it? _

_At that moment, it didn't really matter. Part of him knew the entire time that his status wouldn't change even though he had done Clu this favor. What he wanted was more power and influence, and he wasn't even going to get it. He had handed over a program for deresolution, and he wasn't going to get what he had wanted. And he had known that from the beginning. _

_Who was he? And what had he done? _

_II _

_Groaning weakly, he cracked open one eye. Where am I? he wondered. And what in the name of the Users happened to me? His processors were running slower than normal—and his CPU was pounding—but he managed to push himself into a sitting position to look around. _

_He was in an empty room he didn't recognize, and it was completely dark. The only light came from the faint glow of his circuitry, and he sighed deeply. What'd you get yourself into now, Ram? he thought bitterly, the memories just starting to come back to him. Why can't you just stay out of trouble? _

_What had happened hit him like an identity disc to the gut. He remembered going to the End of Line Club; he remembered drinking more than he should have, more than a little program like him could handle. He remembered the terrible sensation of having Clu wrap his arm around his shoulders…Clu dragging him out of the club. He remembered being shoved into a Recognizer with…with—come on you stupid actuary, remember! he ordered himself—orange circuits. After that, everything had gone black, but he knew enough to know that where he was wasn't good. _

_So I was right after all, he thought bitterly. Clu's just as bad as the MCP. The fact he had been right—and Flynn so very wrong—didn't bring him the satisfaction he thought it would. He didn't want to be right about this, and he wanted more than anything for everything to back to how it had been before…which he already knew wouldn't happen. _

_More than anything, he just felt alone. _

_Outside of the room, he heard movement, and he slowly unhooked his identity disc from his back. For all he knew, it could be somebody coming to take his identity disc for information or even de-rezz him. Growling weakly, he listened closely, trying to determine what exactly was happening. If they were coming for him, he was going to be ready…was going to fight for his life. He had to warn Tron…had to warn Flynn. He had to get out of there. _

_The program that was outside of the room clearly had stopped, and he waited for the portal to open but it never did. Instead a voice called—Clu he thought, rage pelting through him—in a triumphant sneer, "Where are your precious Users now, man?" _

"_You'll never get away with this!" he yelled in response, trying his best to sound convincing even though he wasn't even sure if he believed what he was saying. _

_To that, Clu just laughed, and he listened bitterly as he walked away. And, as he sat there in the dark listening to Clu's vicious laughter, he had to wonder why the Users—and Flynn in particular—had abandoned him yet again. _

_III _

"_The time has come, programs!" he grinned as he addressed his loyal followers. "The time has come to retake what is ours! To make what is now imperfect perfect again!" _

_The command ship had landed just outside of the compound where he knew he would find Flynn, and he was still amazed by how easily he had organized his coup. If there was one thing Ram had been right about, it was that many programs were hostile towards the ISOs and angry about the fact the "great" User had practically abandoned them. It wasn't too difficult to find followers when so many felt they had been wronged. _

"_We will retake our system from the tyrant!" he continued, allowing his voice to grow louder and more intense. "We will retake what rightfully belongs to us! Did Flynn create the Grid for the ISOs?" _

_He paused to allow the angry shouts answering his question with a resounding no rained over him. It was glorious to command so much respect, to have complete control. "No! You're right, he didn't! He created the system for us! For the programs!" he yelled over the din, over the catcalls and cheering of his loyal followers. _

_As soon as the programs had quieted down, he added triumphantly, aware that this one move was going to change everything for the better, "It's time we teach the User a lesson! This is our system!" _

_2009 _

I

Sam Flynn. It couldn't be, Quorra thought as she stared down at the light cycle grid from her perch atop the stadium. Clu was about to take on Flynn's son in a game he couldn't possibly win, not when Clu and his team had far superior cycles, not when Clu had Rinzler on his side. This can't be happening, she thought as she watched Clu's team rezz their cycles and take off.

For a moment, she contemplated what her next move should be. She knew she couldn't just let Flynn's son die on the light cycle grid, but she also knew she had to have a plan in place before going down there. Even though going to the arena was impulsive, she knew that in this situation being impulsive might get a very important person killed…and that she might die as well.

Cringing at the selfish thought, she scolded herself before turning her attention back to the game. She watched as one of the red-circuited programs ran a white-circuited program into the wall, de-rezzing the poor program in an instant. It's now 5 on 4, she thought, running over the options in her head again. And they're only going to take out more of the programs on Sam's team…

Without a second thought, Quorra leapt down from her perch. She knew what she had to do and was going to do it despite the risks…

II

Now this I can do, Sam thought, trying not to break out into a grin, as he sped through the course with ease. To him, the light cycle was nothing more than a motorcycle, albeit a slightly cooler and more advanced one. But, he had to admit, this wasn't far different than outracing a cop or drag racing with his buddies.

This is life or death, he realized as he watched a program on his team smash into a wall and de-rezz instantly. And this can't be happening…

He could barely hear his own thoughts over the cheers of the crowd, and he could only watch as the particularly dirty—and skilled, he had to admit—Clu hit a program in the head, causing him to spin out and crash…5 on 3….their light cycles were far better, the programs were better trained. But he knew he could take them; he was, he had to admit, really good on a bike.

Glancing up, he noticed that a program on Clu's team was directly above him, just waiting for him to take a ramp back up to the upper level. Without even stopping to think about what he was doing, he shot up a small incline and pulled the cycle up, causing it to fly right over top of the enemy program's light cycle. As soon as his wheels touched down again, he cut over, causing the program to crash and de-rezz. Yeah, Sam, you got this, he grinned.

After nearly getting wiped out by the remains of one of his teammate's bikes, Sam jumped down into the lower level again. Even though he knew he was good, he had to admit the odds weren't in his favor—not at 4 on 2, not when Rinzler and Clu were still up there. He would have to work with his last remaining teammate and hope he could get them both out of their alive. "Hey!" he yelled when he caught up to him. "We have to work together!"

For a long moment, he thought the program was going to ignore him—even though he did glance up at the enemy program above them for a split second—and was going to decide to fight only for himself. But then—his face still an emotionless mask—he gave a small nod and turned to the right.

I'll just have to hope I can trust him, Sam thought as he glanced over his shoulder, well aware that the enemy program had decided to follow him and was closing in on him fast. "Yeah, that's right. Come and get me!" he taunted, more to boost his confidence than to truly mock his enemy.

After going through various dips and ascents, Sam once again caught up to the program. "Boo," he laughed as he turned gently as the program kept going straight…right into his teammate's trail. He was thrown from his light cycle and de-rezzed instantly. One down, three to go! Sam thought, trying to hold back a smile. Bet they're regretting this now…

III

"You heard me! Get out! That's an order!" Jarvis yelled—clearly glowering because of all of his insults. "I'll take care of him myself!"

"But, sir," one of the guards tried to step in, but Ram knew it was far too late for that. This is it, he thought as he offered Jarvis an even bigger, more incredulous smile. "Sir, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"What?" Jarvis raged, getting in the face of the guard—that's right, bud, you're really something, Ram almost laughed—"You think I can't take care of an actuarial program on my own! Let go of him and get out!"

As soon as the guards let go of him, Ram took a step back to fully survey the scene, keeping his smirk on his face to keep Jarvis enraged even though he wasn't worried about that stupid lackey anymore. Alright, odds of survival are 85%, he calculated quickly as he gazed at the large window in the back. Better than expected, which is always good.

Laughing to himself, he noticed there was one light jet baton sitting on a table. Odds have just improved to 99%! he thought, unable to control his smile. Alright…maybe 90%.

"I'll teach you to call me a coward!" Jarvis' angry voice tore Ram from his calculations, and just in time too because the program was hurtling towards him. Wow, he's really serious about de-rezzing me all by himself, Ram thought as he artfully dodged Jarvis' first blow. I'll just have to mock the glitching idiot some more!

"Oh, yeah, this is real fair!" he snickered—hoping that this move would work in his favor and not against him—as he dodged yet another blow from his own identity disc. "I don't even got my disc! But, hey, you're such a brave program!"

Jarvis took a step back and stared at him, a furious and fairly shocked expression on his face. It's really working! Ram thought as he took a step back as well and tried to look as serious as possible. He's really glitching over this!

"You…you…" Jarvis snarled, his rage all too apparent—clouding his judgment, messing with his CPU, not letting him function properly…it was working too perfectly. "I'll make you suffer you…"

Ram didn't even let Jarvis finish that thought. In one perfectly orchestrated and fluid movement—perfected from years of practice on the most lethal of stages—he took two quick steps and threw himself at Jarvis. The stupid lackey didn't even have time to react, and he even dropped his own identity disc in fear…of the oh so intimidating actuary…

Easily pinning him to the ground—causing Jarvis' disc to skitter away even further away—Ram grabbed his own identity disc out of his enemy's hand and reattached it to his back. "Aw, look at what the wittle actuary did to ya," he laughed wildly, more than a little amused by how well his plan had worked out.

He didn't wait for the guards to return, didn't even take the time to de-rezz Jarvis. He had no time, no margin for error, and he knew it all too well. As quickly as possible, he scooped Jarvis' disc off the ground and hurled it out the window before running to the table to grab the lone light jet baton.

Just as he was about to jump through the window, Jarvis' completely stunned voice stopped him: "What are you?"

"Who me?" Ram laughed innocently, smirking at the program he had so handily conquered. "I'm just your everyday actuarial program."

With that, he crashed through the window to his freedom…


	9. Chapter 8

_Hey guys, here's the latest chapter. The first part was partially inspired by Cyberbutterfly's "Crazy like us" in "Through a Mirror Darkly." I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and please review! I'm really struggling to put this together, and I want to hear what you think. Enjoy, R&R! ~Moore12~ _

**Eight **

_1982_

_I_

_Hope was hard to come by on the Game Grid. Sometimes, it was hard to keep fighting, hard to keep believing in the Users. Sometimes, it felt like his User had abandoned him—had abandoned him even though he had given him such an important task—and there was part of him that didn't want to be bothered with his mission anymore. _

_Sighing deeply, he turned and glanced over at the small cell next to his. He's still not back yet, he realized with a pang. He had been in this evil place long enough to know how everything worked and he knew that, by now, his friend should have already been safely deposited into his cell to live another micro. User, where is he? _

_To pass the time and keep his mind off his painful thoughts, he idly spun his identity disc and stared blankly at the wall. Micros passed, and still nothing. His circuits dimming, he admitted the worst had to have happened: Ram had finally been de-rezzed. _

_Even though he had to admit it was a miracle that the little program had lasted as long as he had—he was oddly good at calculating odds of future outcomes but he knew that wasn't enough—the fact the inevitable had happened still hurt. When I get out of this place, I'm going to teach the MCP a lesson, he thought darkly as he stared at the wall. I'm going to teach… _

_To his genuine relief, he was torn from his angry thoughts by the sound of footsteps coming towards them. Looking up, he saw that two guards were practically dragging his friend between them. After deactivating the force field, they pushed him inside and left, snickering about something he didn't catch because he was focused solely on Ram. _

_The little actuary was covered with scorch marks and appeared to barely have any energy left in him because he hadn't gotten up. No, he was still lying on his stomach where the guards had dropped him, his circuits flickering weakly. "Ram?" he called softly, trying to hide the fear in his voice. "Ram, are you okay?" _

_For a moment, he was convinced Ram wasn't going to respond. But then the little actuary snickered weakly and replied, his voice cracking with the effort, "Yeah, I'm alright." _

_"What happened to you?" he asked as he slid over to the force field that was dividing their cells. What had Ram done to possibly deserve this? he wondered, almost aloud. Who would do this? _

_Slowly, Ram rolled over onto his side—wincing with pain as he did—to face him. Even though he was clearly damaged, even though he was in pain, he managed to offer him a grin. "Well, ya know, I'm just such a threat to the great MCP…" _

_"Ram…" his voice trailed off. He didn't really know what to say, especially not when his friend was cracking jokes about being so badly damaged. "Ram, really, what happened?" _

_"Well," the little program said thoughtfully, his classic smirk on his face. "I won disc wars again, and…well…that didn't sit well with the Sark, right?"_

_He nodded for his friend to continue—he's going to be alright after all, he thought happily—and Ram obliged. "He's not happy I've lasted this long 'cause…well…ya know. So he puts me right into another match…and I win again." _

_Ram chuckled weakly as he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. Even though he was still smiling, even though his usual fire was present in his eyes, it was hard for him not to notice that he was moving like an outdated program. "So what happened next?" he asked, trying to hide how concerned he really was. Maybe he wasn't alright after all… _

_Wincing, Ram leaned up against the wall and closed his eyes. For a moment, he was convinced his friend wasn't going to answer that question but he did. With his eyes still closed, he replied, the laughter still in his voice, "Now Sark's really glitching, right? So he decides to come down there and teach me a lesson himself. Well…let's just say he was threatenin' me with deresolution and I said something along the lines of 'You ain't tough enough to de-rezz me…not without your precious MCP to help ya out.'" _

_He knew his friend was tough—always ready to fight…or give a quick comeback—but he never would have thought he would have stood up to Sark. Even though he had to admire the little actuary's feistiness, he had to admit it was rather stupid of him to challenge the commander like that, not when he hadn't been programmed to fight. "Wow, Ram, no wonder the guards beat you up so badly…" _

_To his genuine surprise, Ram just laughed, a bright smile playing on his face, "You should've seen the look on Sark's face, Tron! Made all this worth it, ya know?" _

_That was when he realized something: if he had been in Ram's position he would have done the same thing…well… he probably wouldn't have had such a good comeback. Allowing himself to laugh—he had to admit the actuary always had a wicked sense of humor and knew exactly what to say to cheer him up—he put aside all of his worries. He knew, deep down, Ram was okay, probably even better than ever. _

_"User, I wish I was there, man!" he exclaimed. "So what happened next?" _

_II _

_There was something different about that program. He couldn't place it, but there was something different about him. He had been in that prison long enough to have seen all types of programs…accounting, academic, search engines, even military programs. He thought he had seen it all, and then that program showed up. He was…different, and he knew something big was happening. _

_"The new guy was asking about you," he said softly, glancing over at Tron, who was, as usual, staring off into space probably contemplating taking down the MCP. _

_"It's too bad he's in a match now. I'll probably never meet him," Tron replied gravely; he clearly didn't care about the new guy's fate as much as he did and hadn't noticed what he had. _

_"You might," he answered, a genuine smile creeping across his face for the first time in cycles. "There's something different about him." _

_"What would that be?" Tron asked as he turned to face him, clearly interested in what he had to say. Sometimes, the security program would space out when he talked, but he didn't mind. He usually just needed to talk to keep himself from thinking about what was happening, and Tron always tuned back in when he had something important to say. _

_Sighing deeply, he replied, unable to really articulate what it was, "I dunno, Tron. He's just different. I've been here a long time—longer than even you—and I haven't…seen any program like him." _

_"Maybe the Users are still with us after all," Tron smiled for the first time in cycles, his circuits brightening at the thought. _

_"Yeah, maybe," he smiled in return, hoping that the new program was the answer to their hopes and prayers after all… _

_2009 _

I

As the light jet rezzed around him, Ram knew he was free. He was finally free after countless cycles of fighting for his life, of having to live with the reality he had walked into a trap and essentially allowed Clu to capture him. Freedom never felt so good! he nearly screamed as he soared out the window of Clu's command ship, laughing hysterically at his good fortune. Thank the Users everybody always underestimates me…

Quickly, he surveyed his surroundings. The command ship had been parked on the light cycle grid, and he was about to fly over the stands—to the outlands, where I'll be safe, he thought—when he noticed something. Even though a program on Clu's team was de-rezzed by the User when he naively looked up to see what was happening—what a glitching idiot, he laughed—the User was still outnumbered…2 to 1. He doesn't got any teammates left, Ram realized as he looked over his shoulder to make sure that there were no light jets coming after him. He's got a 100% chance of getting killed facing Clu and Rinzler alone…

What did he care? What did the Users ever do for him? He had been abandoned two times, kicked when he was down and left to de-rezz. Where were the Users when he was left to fight for his life for cycles, when did Flynn ever listen to a word that came out of his so-called "moral compass's" mouth? Why should he care about the Users when they clearly didn't care about him? He was free, and he was out of there…

But something stopped him. Biting his lip, he realized he couldn't leave the User to die. He had to stop this and…maybe he could take down Clu while he was at it which would make everything that had happened to him worth it. Here we go, Ram, he thought as he angled the light jet down towards the course, trying his best to grin…But it never came and he knew it never would…

He wasn't free after all…

II

Sam shot across the light cycle grid, well aware he was in trouble. His last teammate had been de-rezzed by Clu himself, and now Clu was hunting him down, hurling insults at him while he did. He had to keep moving, had to keep the element of surprise on his side. Looking around—he hadn't seen Rinzler in awhile but knew he had to be lurking somewhere—he realized the crowd was going nuts after he crashed one of his opponents into a wall. What the hell is happening now? he wondered.

His curiosity got the better of him—he figured he could look up for a second—and, when he did, he saw a white-circuited light jet streaking through the sky. Realizing he couldn't let that distract him, he returned his attention to the course, only to see Rinzler shooting directly at him at full speed. This really isn't my day, he thought bitterly as he swerved as fast as he could….

Right at Clu…

He was cornered, and there was nothing he could do. Well, this is it, Sam, he thought frantically, scared for the first time in his entire life. Well, not the first time…the first time since his father disappeared. Why are you thinking about that now? he wondered as he tried to skid away from Clu. Oh, right, you're staring death in the face.

Bracing himself for the worst—Clu's taunts pounding in his ears—he continued to turn the cycle, hoping he would be able to get away but far from certain that was a possibility. He could only watch as Clu—skilled as he was—turned just as sharply so that he retained his advantage.

This is it, he thought as he gripped the controls, ready to make his last ditch move. At least I'll probably take him out with me.

He never had to make the move. Because, just as Clu was about to run into him, the light jet he had spotted earlier shot right over top of him and rammed right into Clu…

III

One moment, Clu had the User in his sites and was on the verge of deleting him forever—taking revenge on the one who had betrayed him—the next, he was spiraling through the air, his light cycle destroyed and his life in jeopardy. What happened? he raged as he grabbed his second baton, hoping to spare himself from a hard landing by rezzing a new cycle. What was that thing?

Right before he rezzed his cycle he saw something so unexpected—and so infuriating—he howled with rage. It can't be! he thought. This can't be happening! Because the thing that had prevented him from destroying the User and ruining Flynn's life was none other than that cocky little actuarial program that was supposed to have been repurposed; he was hurtling through the air just above him, pieces of a destroyed light jet all around him.

When Ram saw that he was staring at him—the stupid little virus was still very much alive—he shrugged sheepishly, and Clu knew there must be a smug smile hidden behind his black face shield. I'll wipe that smile off your face, Clu thought as he rezzed his cycle right before hitting the ground. Once and for all, I'll de-rezz you.

The cycle fully rezzed just in time—serving to protect him and give him a much needed advantage—and he hit the ground with a dull thud and skidded to a stop. The little actuary wasn't as lucky. He had no extra baton, and he slammed into the ground with such force, it was enough to make even Clu cringe. He slid to a stop a few feet from where he landed.

Clu watched the stupid little virus closely for a moment—half expecting him to get up and attack him despite his crash—before determining he was no longer a threat. He was just lying there, completely still, his circuits flickering. He's done, Clu thought, beginning to laugh. That's the end of him.

Leaving the actuary's body behind—no need to waste time de-rezzing him when he will all by himself—Clu turned his attention back to the User, who was being tracked by Rinzler nearby.

This is it, he thought as he took off, shifting into the highest gear. Nothing can stop me now!

That was when he heard a horrible crash, and he remembered that nothing was certain. The alarm ringing in his ears, he realized that he was about to face yet another opponent…


	10. Chapter 9

_Hey everybody! Hope you're all having a good 4th of July! Anyway, here's the latest chapter. Enjoy and R&R...for all of you who have been reviewing, I greatly appreciate it; you all are what's keeping me writing this ~Moore12~ _

**Nine **

_1992_

_I _

_She opened her eyes and looked around warily, well aware of what had happened to her but unaware of where she was. As far as she could tell, she was safe. She didn't recognize the room she was in at all but there was nothing particularly threatening about it, so she allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief and acknowledge that she had survived. But what happened? she wondered as she sat up. And where am I? _

_That was when she saw him, sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, smiling at her. It can't be, she thought, in wonder. It can't be the creator. "I see you've finally rebooted," Flynn smiled at her warmly; yes, it was Flynn and not his program, Clu; everything had worked out after all. _

"_You saved me?" she asked, still amazed by everything that was happening. The memory of Rinzler holding her down, of the hand that had given her hope that maybe it wasn't over after all, of everything fading to black tore through her. She had to wonder how Flynn had saved her, how he had taken down Clu's number one assassin._

"_Of course I did, Quorra," Flynn replied, his smile widening into a rather boyish grin. "I just happened to be in the right place at the right time, and I wasn't about to let Rinzler de-rezz you." _

_That didn't make any sense, and she knew it. Why would the creator put his life in danger for her…for one ISO? Why would he be willing to fight Rinzler and risk everything he had worked for—he was, after all, the only one who could adequately resist Clu—for her? "Why?" she finally asked after a prolonged moment of silence. _

"_Why?" Flynn echoed, a slightly surprised look on his face. He paused—clearly trying to think up an adequate answer—and then continued, "Well, I couldn't just let him de-rezz you, not when I could help. You can't always just think about yourself, you know?" _

_She didn't think anybody really thought about anybody other than themselves anymore so Flynn's reasoning amazed her. Most programs selfishly ignored the plight of the ISOs; their indifference saved them from Clu's wrath. Others—the ones that had always been hostile towards Flynn's "miracle"—sided with Clu, becoming allies, helping him to wipe out the "virus." Very few were sympathetic, helping to smuggle ISOs out of the city or hiding them in their homes; for the most part, they met the same fate as the ISOs they had futilely tried to save. Clu was ruthless, the programs knew it. Nobody wanted to make him their enemy, and the vast majority decided to put themselves first, save only themselves. The User world must be different, she thought as she stared at Flynn in wonder. I can learn so much from him… _

_Realizing that Flynn was staring at her questioningly, she broke off her thoughts and asked, "So…where am I?" _

"_Well," Flynn replied—was it just her, or did he look more serious?—slowly, "You're at my house in the Outlands. You'll be safe here…" _

_Safe? She was confused; wasn't she going to help him save other ISOs…if there were any left? "So what are we going to do?" she asked softly, trying to figure out what was really going on here. _

"_We wait," Flynn said softly, his voice serious. "We wait because it's the only thing we can do." _

_II _

"_What happened?" his master snarled as soon as he walked into the room, well aware that he had come back later than the Black Guard. "Where have you been?" _

_Growling weakly, he just shook his head. The last thing he wanted was for his master to remove his identity disc and see how he had lost the ISO…to none other than their enemy. He could feel the familiar rage building inside him—shooting through his processors—at the thought he had failed to complete an important mission…and failed to kill the enemy when he had the chance. But everything had happened so fast, and he had to admit the enemy had been formidable. He had barely known what had hit him, and he was lucky the evil one hadn't stopped to de-rezz him. _

"_The Black Guard returned micros ago!" his master raged, turning on him with the familiar anger in his eyes. "They claimed you had gone off on your own to check something out and said you just never came back…Well, what happened, man?" _

_Clearly seething, his master didn't wait for the answer to that question; instead, he snatched the identity disc from his back. He could only watch as he pulled up the memory of his failure to de-rezz the ISO because of the interference of the enemy. He could only watch as he shot him the most menacing glare he had seen in cycles after watching him be thrown into a wall (and get knocked out for a few micros—just enough to allow them to escape) by the massive pulse of energy. Finally—after a long moment where he just stared at the disc—his master threw it to the ground and yelled, "Rinzler, you had Flynn! You had one of the last ISOs!" _

_His CPU burned at the realization that he had failed so terribly, and he growled at the mention of his enemy's name. This wasn't over yet. Even if his master did rewrite some of his coding yet again—as was always the case when he failed to complete a task and, hence, was clearly "malfunctioning"—he wouldn't forget this. _

_He'd see to it that the enemy and his precious little ISO were deleted forever… _

_III_

_He didn't even look up when a new program was shoved into the cell next to his. Every cycle was the same as the ones that came before; new programs were brought into the games to play, were de-rezzed and then replaced. Programs—the ones that still sided with Flynn at least—were expendable to Clu and treated as such. The only thing that remained a constant was him. He survived cycle after cycle, de-rezzing countless innocent programs to do so. Making friends? He couldn't do that, not there, not in a place even darker and more evil than the old Game Grid. He had to—even though sometimes it felt like it went against his very programming—think only of himself. _

"_What's going on?" he heard the program shout, his voice a mixture of anger and fear. "I didn't do anything wrong! Why was I sent here?"_

_Well, gee, I dunno, he thought cynically, wanting to tell the program to shut up and accept the fact he was never going to see his freedom again. Maybe Clu just doesn't like you. That was when he heard movement in the cell next to him, and he looked up to see the new guy gawking at him through the force field connecting their cells. "I don't believe it!" he exclaimed, a—how in the name of the Users could he be smiling?—"Clu has you in here too! Everybody thought he had you de-rezzed…" _

_A glare forming on his face, he was about to respond—tell the program to shut up or he'd make sure he'd meet a painful end—but the program continued, "You…you can get us all out of here! You could organize a rebellion…you could…"_

"_Look, bud," he growled without even getting up, bearing his teeth to look as threatening as possible. "I ain't getting out of here, and neither are you. So just shut up." _

"_But…" the program's face visibly fell—for a moment, he felt guilty about destroying the poor newbie's last hope but he brushed it off with ease—and he asked, "But you're an admin, aren't you?" _

"_Look, I'm just an actuarial program, alright?" he snarled, enraged to have to discuss his old—and hardly ever used—functions; enraged at the idea he could get all the programs out of there when he knew it was impossible. "I'm real sorry Clu had it in for ya, but there's nothing I can do…But…well, there is one thing." _

_The program gave him a hopeful look, clearly thinking that he was suggesting that escape was possible. Poor naïve glitch, he thought bitterly, remembering cycles when he used to be that innocent, when he used to believe in the Users and that programs could live normal, happy lives. "Yeah," he continued, smirking up at the new guy who had no idea he was the vicious, undefeated Champion of the games. "I'll help ya escape…by de-rezzing you myself." _

_The moment the words came out of his mouth, he regretted them…_

_2009 _

The light runner blasted through the wall with ease, and Quorra shot through the opening and into the arena. She would have to make this rescue quick to elude capture, and she quickly surveyed the scene. To her horror, Rinzler had just caused Sam to crash into a light ribbon, sending him skidding across the course. She quickly turned, hoping to keep Rinzler off of him while he was unconscious, and she was shocked when he got right to his feet, brandishing the identity disc. He's definitely Flynn's son, she thought as she sped towards him. Fearless…

Just as Rinzler was about to reach Sam, she cut him off, causing him to lose control of his cycle and skid to the ground. Opening the door to the light runner, she growled—her voice altered because of the mask she was wearing, "Get in."

When Sam just stared at her blankly—completely shell-shocked, she realized—she repeated herself, and he knew enough to listen the second time around. As soon as he got in, she took off, knowing Rinzler would recover from his spill and be after them in no time. And Clu? Clu had to be lurking somewhere, ready to strike.

The light runner going as fast as it could, she figured they were home free. All I've got to do now is blast through the wall and make the jump, she thought, smiling to herself. That was when Sam turned to her and exclaimed, "You can't just leave him behind!"

"What?" Quorra started, unable to fully believe what she was hearing. They were almost free, almost safe, and he wanted her to stop to save…With a pang, she realized that she should listen to him; he was trying to help someone, and she wasn't about to stop him. "Who?"

"A program…he saved my life," Sam replied, his voice slightly angry, as if he thought she wasn't going to listen to him. "We can't just leave him behind after that!"

"Hang on," she said softly—well aware that Flynn would probably want her to save the program that had risked his life to save his son—as she turned the light runner around and shot in the direction Sam was pointing.

But, when she saw the program Sam was talking about, she had to wonder if going to all this trouble was worth it. He wasn't moving, and his circuits were flickering…a sure sign that his deresolution was imminent. Still…Flynn had taught her to put others before herself, and she would try to save the program because she knew her mentor could probably fix him.

She was so focused on reaching the program she almost didn't notice Clu gaining on her. When she did, she told herself to relax and calmly released mines from the mine launcher in the back. She grinned when one rolled directly into Clu's path, catching under the front tire of his light cycle and causing it to flip forward, sending him catapulting through the air.

As Quorra slowed the light runner to a stop next to the injured program—glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Clu had survived the crash, hauled himself to his feet, and was clearly motioning for the Black Guards to come seize them—she opened the door for Sam. "It'll be a tight fit," she said, suppressing a small chuckle. "But you'll probably be able to fit him on your lap…"

Sam snorted—an awkward smile on his face—as he pulled the small, unresponsive program inside, maneuvering it so he ended up lying on his back on top of him. As soon as the program was in the light runner, Quorra shut the door and shot towards the wall facing the Outlands because she knew she didn't have time to waste; four of the Black Guard—and Rinzler—were speeding towards them.

Shooting forward, and activating the light ribbon, Quorra realized she was going to have to outdrive five of Clu's top warriors…and it's not a problem, she told herself. They don't know what this thing can do! She easily cut off one of the Black Guard, causing him to smash into the light ribbon and de-rezz instantly. Next, she released mines and glanced over her shoulder to see them explode, taking out the two programs at the rear.

Here we go! she thought triumphantly as she shot towards the wall, ready to fire the missiles and get out of there. As soon as she reached the wall, she shot through it—creating a large enough hole to drive through—and sped towards the jump…the only thing separating them from safety was a deep crevice between the arena and the Outlands. "You'll never make it!" Sam yelped, his eyes filled with fear, but she knew she would without any problems.

Speeding up, she jumped crevice with ease, landing with a thump on the other side. "Made it," she said sarcastically, trying to keep herself from laughing. Looking back, she saw that Rinzler had pulled up—he clearly knew as well as she did that light cycles would malfunction the moment they hit the Outlands. And, now that they were all safe—well, relatively safe, she thought as she glanced at the injured program—she figured she could introduce herself. De-rezzing her helmet, she smiled at Sam. "I'm Quorra."

"Sam," he answered, smiling sweetly back at her, clearly trying to—what was the word?—flirt with her. "It's great to meet you."

"Who's your little friend?" Quorra teased gently, even though she was concerned about the program they had rescued. He still wasn't moving, and his circuits had grown darker and had begun to flicker more often. Even though she couldn't see his face—it was hidden behind a black face shield that was cracked on the bottom—she knew he was unconscious.

"I don't know," Sam answered, glancing down at the small program a concerned look on his face. "Clu was about to run me over, and this guy comes out of nowhere on some type of plane and saves my ass…Do you think he'll make it?"

She didn't have the heart to tell him the program that had initially saved his life was probably not going to live to see another cycle…


	11. Chapter 10

_Please read: Hey everybody! Hope you enjoy the latest chapter! Just wanted to let you know that, after this chapter, this fanfic is going to diverge from the movie a lot more. Excited? I am! Anyway, R&R and enjoy! ~Moore12~ _

**Ten **

_1988_

_I_

"_I don't know," the little program said thoughtfully as he stared down into his glass of pure energy, the nonalcoholic version. "There's just something about him I don't like." _

"_Come on, Ram," he laughed, not wanting to downplay his friend's fears but hoping that he'd stop worrying for a few micros and have a good time, "There's nothing wrong with Clu. Flynn created him. Besides, the Users are always there for us; they wouldn't do anything to harm us." _

_Shrugging sheepishly, Ram smiled at the use of his old saying, a saying that helped propel them both through even the most brutal of cycles on the old Game Grid. But that smile quickly faded into a sad smirk, and he muttered sarcastically, "Come on, the guy doesn't give ya the creeps at all? Jeez, it's like he's Flynn's evil backup or something." _

_He didn't know what to say to that. For as long as he had known Ram, he never seemed the type to worry, to dwell on things outside of his control. He always seemed to take things in stride, even back in the Game Grid where he used to make Sark glitch over his sarcastic comebacks just for fun. But he just couldn't get over his suspicions that Clu wasn't the great program he was cracked up to be. Finally, he thought of an appropriate comeback: "Oh, come on, buddy, you want to tell me that Clu's a villain…like the MCP." _

"_No," Ram laughed in response, a smile forming on his face yet again, the fear gone from his eyes. "I'm just saying there's something not right about him, ya know?" _

"_Did he call you a virus again today?" he asked innocently, struggling to keep the laughter from his voice. _

_His old friend clearly knew him well enough to know he was kidding because he just chuckled. "Nah," he replied, his classic smirk playing on his face, "Just said I was about as useful as a bit. Bet he didn't know he was talkin' to a former undefeated gaming champion!" _

_Taking another sip of his drink—Zuse knew how to make the best drinks in the city, that was for sure—he laughed, "User, Ram, I bet you could send that glitching viral right to the recycling bin if he had the guts to challenge you."_

"_Yeah!" Ram exclaimed, the old joy and fire back in his eyes again. "I'd show him he isn't as amazingly wonderful as his User would have him believe, teach him not to underestimate me ever again!" _

_Something about that comment didn't sit well with him, largely because it almost seemed as if Ram was really frustrated with Flynn and not his program…it almost seemed like he wanted to challenge Clu to prove something to Flynn. Sure, the User had some flaws—namely that he seemed to only listen to himself and Clu sometimes—but that didn't mean he didn't respect other the programs. We were made to fight for the Users, and we work specifically for Flynn, he thought as he stared at his old friend. What's Ram getting at? Fairly confused—and wanting answers he knew Ram wouldn't give him unless directly challenged—he asked, "User, buddy, this isn't even about Clu, is it?" _

_Ram stared at him for a moment—he could tell his friend had figured him out—and sighed. "Look, Tron," he replied, his voice surprisingly nervous, "I dunno…I just don't trust Clu, alright?"_

_He took another sip of his drink, deciding that he didn't want to deal with this right now. For the love of the Users, can't Ram have a good time anymore? he thought surprisingly bitter about what was happening. And then he remembered how much he had pouted back in the old Game Grid, how he had often ignored Ram to futilely calculate ways to escape. But…still…that was different, and he was about to tell Ram what he really felt about his sudden distrust of the User who had restored him when Zuse interrupted him. _

"_Care for another, dear?"the barkeeper asked, smiling his typical rather fake smile. "You look like you could use one, if you don't mind me saying." _

"_Sure, why not?" he muttered in response; when he looked over at Ram, he realized he was just staring vacantly into his drink, a fairly broken expression on his face. _

_Still, he wasn't about to admit he was right about Flynn. He just couldn't be… _

_II _

_Because Tron's CPU was on the fritz after a drinking binge—he had been awoken to Ram struggling to drag the powered down security program into the compound—he decided it would be best to leave him behind for this trip to visit the ISOs. And, as he maneuvered the three-man light jet through a particularly difficult section of the Outlands, he was beginning to regret that decision. _

_The silence in the cockpit was overwhelming and very uncomfortable. As soon as Clu had found out his User was bringing Ram along as well, he had descended into a moody silence. And the little actuary had spent the entire trip staring out the window vacantly, not excitedly asking questions like he usually did whenever he took him anywhere. What's wrong with them? he had to wonder. _

"_Flynn," Ram said softly, finally breaking the oppressive silence, "I overheard an ISO at the club yesterday, and they're real concerned about something. Do you want me to check it out?" _

_He didn't even look at me when he asked that, he realized as he looked over at the actuarial program. What's gotten into him lately? But instead of asking him that question, he replied, "Sure that sounds good, Ram. But what exactly are they worried about?" _

_The little actuary shrugged and answered noncommittally, "I dunno, he was just talking to Zuse about securing his alliance…it's probably nothing…" _

_Even though there was clearly more to this story than Ram was letting on, he decided to let it go. Besides, for the most part, he trusted the actuary and figured he was probably telling the truth. And he really didn't need Ram hanging around when he talked to the ISOs about their plans…and his to make them a permanent residence on the Grid. That was what was important._

_He turned to Clu—about to go through all the details of their latest trip—and noticed that his program was glaring at the actuary, a vicious scowl on his face. As soon as he felt his User's eyes on him, it vanished instantly—maybe I just imagined it…he thought—and he smiled. "What's the plan?" he asked excitedly. _

_Dismissing what he had seen—besides, Ram and Clu had never really gotten along very well anyway—he grinned at his program. Everything's good, he told himself, completely confident in that fact. Nothing to worry about… _

_2009 _

I

Flynn didn't even get up when he heard someone enter his house. He didn't want to admit to himself that everything was most likely about to change, that maybe his strategy wasn't going to work anymore. If a new player is in the game it's going to change everything…on both sides, he thought, more nervous than he thought he would be. But it won't if I can help it…

"Flynn," Quorra's soft voice tore him from his thoughts. "There's someone here to see you."

As he got up—barely hearing Quorra's explanation that she found him on the light cycle grid and had to intervene—he saw a person he knew instantly even though he didn't fully recognize him. His son…the one person he loved more than anything in the entire world…was there. Emotions pelted through him—shock, joy, fear—and he stepped forward to wrap Sam in a tight hug. He had never thought he would see him again, and part of him still couldn't fully believe what was happening.

"Dad…" Sam's voice trailed off as he returned the hug. He was clearly as choked up as he was because he didn't say anything more.

They stayed like that for a few moments—finally reunited after so many years, Flynn didn't want to let go and clearly Sam didn't either—before Flynn finally broke it off. "Sam? How…how did you get here?"

"Dad, I got your page," Sam smiled, and the sight was enough to tear Flynn's heart into shreds. Page? he thought, already well aware of what that meant even though he didn't want to admit it. Clu…Clu wanted to bring somebody from the outside here. But why?

"Sam," he said softly, hoping the truth wouldn't hurt him too badly…wouldn't make him think he wasn't happy to see him. "I didn't send you a page but…I'm so happy to see you…"

He was happy when Sam didn't even flinch at learning that his father hadn't sent for him, instead opting to ask, "So…you've been stuck here? That's why you never came back…right?"

Sighing deeply, Flynn responded—seeing his son on the Grid was bringing up so many painful memories—trying to hide his pain, "That's right, kiddo. I wanted to get home so badly but…the portal closed." Hoping to change the topic—more than anything, he just wanted to see what had been going on in his now-adult son's life—he said, chuckling, "Wow, you've changed a lot."

Sam smiled brightly and replied, the laughter in his voice Flynn had been missing for all these years, "The years haven't been too kind to you, huh, Dad?"

Laughing, he was about to offer a quick comeback when Quorra stepped in. "I hate to interrupt you guys," she said apologetically. "But there's something you need to attend to, Flynn."

Something I need to attend to? Flynn wondered, staring at Quorra in disbelief. What the hell is she talking about? My son's here and I just want to…damn it, what else did the cat drag in? Without saying another word, Quorra answered his question, gesturing to a small body lying on the ground near the entrance to the room. It was Sam who offered the explanation, "He saved my life, Dad. We figured you could fix him up…"

"I can try, but I won't guarantee anything," Flynn said softly as he walked over to where the program was lying, his dull circuits flickering weakly. "But I can tell you already he's not looking too good."

He quickly unhooked the program's identity disc and rolled him onto his back. He was oddly familiar looking—maybe it was the circuitry, maybe it was his body type—and Flynn paused at the realization. But it can't be, he thought. It's been 20 years; he can't still be alive.

Even though it was admittedly an unnecessary waste of precious time—he could tell just by looking at him the program didn't have much time left in him—he de-rezzed the black face shield that was hiding his face from view. He had to know what he was dealing with.

The face shield de-rezzed, revealing a painfully familiar face…that was now severely damaged. Ram, Flynn thought, trying his best to hide from Quorra and Sam that he was upset, that he knew this program and once called him a friend. What did they do to you?

II

Clearly, there was something Flynn wasn't telling them. Quorra watched him closely as he went to work—accessing the program's coding on his identity disc and working to find and fix the damaged areas—and wondered what he knew that they didn't. He knows this program, she guessed as she glanced down at the program's badly damaged face. And I do too…but from where? And what's his name?

She tried to look past all of the terrible damage—it was hard to even look at the program given that almost half of his face was missing—to determine where she knew him from but found she couldn't remember. Even though she doubted that Flynn would tell her the truth, she decided to ask anyway. "Flynn," she said, trying to sound as innocent as possible. "I've seen this program before…from a long time ago. Do you know who he is?"

Sighing deeply, Flynn didn't even look up from his work. After removing yet another portion of damaged coding, he responded, his voice unusually sad even though he didn't acknowledge he knew the program, "The disc says his name's Ram, Q."

A weighty silence descended on them as Flynn continued sifting through the program's coding. She looked over at Sam and saw that he was staring at his father in amazement—clearly, he doesn't know what he's capable of, she thought, suppressing a small chuckle—before returning her attention to the damaged program that she knew was important somehow.

Awhile later, Flynn stopped. "Well, I've done all I can do," he stated as he rolled the program over and attached his identity disc to his back once more. "All we can do is hope he reboots properly."

That was when Quorra realized something…Flynn was afraid…

III

Pain. So much pain. His circuits sparking, Ram rebooted, his processors whirring unhealthily. What was happening? Where was he? It felt like cycles had passed before the pain subsided enough for him to crack open his good eye. What…what's going on? he wondered. He felt different, and his CPU tried desperately to calculate where he was.

It all came back to him in an instant—meeting the User, fighting Rinzler, escaping Jarvis and Clu only to go back to save the User again—but, still, it didn't make sense. I can't still be alive, he thought even as he realized he was lying on the floor in the entrance way of a room. User, I crashed a light jet…

Ram tried to push himself into a sitting position only to fall back to the floor, pain shooting through all of his processors. Despite the pain, he managed to brush a hand across his face—which felt so different—and he realized the right side of his face had been restored. What? That can't be…he thought, desperately trying to determine what was going on. Only a User…

It hit him like an identity disc to the gut, and a familiar voice—one he had never wanted to hear again in his life—confirmed what he had already figured out on his own: "Take it easy, man," Flynn ordered, his voice filled with—clearly fake, he thought, rage building inside of him—compassion. "You're not looking too good."

He wasn't just going to lay there and listen to the User who abandoned him, who left him to rot in that cell, who never listened to him even when he was telling the truth, preach at him. He didn't care if he strained his processors—dooming him to deresolution yet again—he wasn't going to take this…wasn't going to let the oh-so-wonderful-and-benevolent "creator" hold this over his head to be able to not listen to him some more.

Summoning all of his energy, Ram unhooked his identity disc from his back and scrambled to his feet—ignoring the pain that signaled his processors were protesting this movement. In one swift movement, he charged the great—and not so powerful, he thought, snickering at Flynn's shocked gasp—User and pinned him to the ground, pushing his identity disc to his throat.


	12. Chapter 11

_Please read: __As much as I'm enjoying this story, I'm starting to run out of ideas, especially for flashbacks. So I'm opening it up to you: What do you guys want to hear more about? What questions do you have? Please keep in mind this is about to diverge a lot with the movie when you comment. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! R&R! ~Moore12~ _

**Eleven **

_1988_

_It had started out as an otherwise routine excursion to the Outlands. Flynn had sent all three of his co-admins—the User had stayed behind to work on his latest "big idea"—and, even though neither of his travelling partners had spoken the entire way out, everything seemed fine…well, normal at least. It was the same as it always was when Flynn decided to send Ram and Clu somewhere together. Aside from happily calling shotgun—of course that was before he had realized that Clu was going and not Flynn—the normally chatty Ram hadn't spoken the entire trip, and it was hard not to notice that Clu wasn't exactly thrilled to be there. User, why can't you two get along? he thought miserably as he carefully landed the light jet. It would make my life a lot easier… _

"_Alright," he said as soon as they landed, taking charge as usual, "You already know we have a report of a grid bug hive that's too close to comfort to where the ISOs are staying…" _

_Snorting, Clu cut him off before he could continue, "I don't see why they don't just take care of it themselves when they're the reason the hive formed in the first place. But that's Flynn for you!"_

"_Clu," he growled, not wanting to deal with the program's antics at the moment, "We don't have time for you to question Flynn's judgment, alright?" _

_Before he could continue—get on with explaining their mission and the objectives…which was far more important than sitting around contemplating things they couldn't fully understand—Ram broke in. Chuckling dryly, he muttered, "Well, that's just Clu for ya! He wasn't programmed to understand obvious truths, you see, 'cause he's got loftier things to worry about." _

"_Oh what would you know?" Clu snarled from the backseat, clearly glitching over Ram's insult. "You're just an actuarial program." _

_Obviously unfazed by Clu's rather direct insult, Ram replied wryly, "An actuarial program who's got a properly functioning CPU…which is more than you can say." _

"_Enough!" he snapped, fed up with the pair's arguing and frustrated that neither of them were mature enough to put aside their differences to complete a mission. "Both of you shut up and listen to me! We don't have time to waste…"_

_He half expected Clu to take another shot at Ram—or Ram to offer another quip about Clu not being able to understand the objectives of the mission—but the pair remained silent. Clu was watching him in moody silence, and Ram looked unusually hurt, which didn't make any sense to him but he didn't have time to worry about his old friend at the moment. Sighing deeply, he continued, "As I was saying, our mission is to take out the hive. Now, the most important thing is that we eliminate it as quickly and effectively as possible. We don't want a whole swarm of them getting out…" _

"_Come on, Tron, this long explanation is completely unnecessary," Clu interrupted him, a smug grin playing on his face. "Oh…wait…never mind, it is. After all, the glitching actuary wasn't designed to fully understand strategy." _

"_You know what, Clu? You're right," Ram quipped sarcastically, even though it was clear to him at least he had lost some of his fire. "But…User, I learned so much on the Game Grid where I was—huh…how do I put it?—an undefeated champion!" _

_At that point, he didn't really care if the pair fully understood the objectives for the mission; he just wanted to get it over with to separate them. "Come on, let's get it over with," he muttered as he opened the doors to let them out. "You both should know the routine by now." _

_The routine was simple, or at least he thought it was. The hive was located in a crack in the coding of the Grid. All it took to take out most of the grid bugs at one time was a well placed light grenade…the fortunate few that got out the three of them could handle with ease. Simple…so simple. That was when he remembered the one thing he always had to warn them about: "Remember no loud noises, alright?" he said softly before climbing out. All he could do was hope they would actually adhere to the warning… _

_Ram offered him a weak, fairly apologetic smile before grabbing the light grenade. Since he was the fastest—and most accurate, they had learned from experience—he was always in charge of placing the light grenade. As soon as he armed it, he would take off to get a safe distance away. We should be good as long as few escape, he thought, only a little nervous, as he watched Ram silently approach the hive. _

_For a moment, he thought everything was going to work out…that it was really going to be a routine trip despite the awkwardness of getting there. But then—out of nowhere it seemed—a large crack rang out. What in the name of the Users? he thought, spinning around to try to determine where the sound came from only to see Clu—an innocent look on his face—looking around frantically as well. "What was that?" he asked, keeping his rather scared voice down. _

_It didn't matter what it was, and he knew that. He could already feel the ground moving beneath his feet, and he unhooked his identity disc. "Ram, get out of there!" he yelled, well aware the damage had already been done. _

_Ram—clearly panicked by the turn of events—armed the light grenade and hurled it into the crevice. He didn't even stop to see where it landed; instead, he sprinted away faster than he had ever seen him go. But it was too late for that: the light grenade exploded just as the grid bugs came pouring out of the crevice, and Ram was too close when it went off…he could only watch as his friend was sent hurtling through the air. _

_To his short-lived relief, Ram quickly pushed himself to his feet, unhooking his identity disc as he did. It was just in time too because the first grid bug reached him just as he got up, and he smashed it with the disc quickly. "A little help, guys!" he yelled, unadulterated fear in his voice. _

_Without even stopping to calculate what the right course of action really was, he raced to help his friend. No! he thought wildly as he watched as the swarm of grid bugs that had escaped the explosion attacked Ram. There's too many for him. "Hang on, bud!" he yelled as he ran towards him, pushing himself to go faster. _

_He was too late; Ram had been fighting admirably given how many grid bugs had swarmed him—he had taken out nearly a third of them just with an identity disc—but there were too many for him. He was too small to stand up to all the shocks, too small to fight them all of. He could only watch as his friend fell to his knees, one last small cry for help escaping from him. _

_As soon as Ram fell, he reached the crevice. His rage and desperation consuming him—he couldn't lose him too—he slashed through bug after bug. He didn't even know if Ram was still alive, but he fought, hoping he hadn't been de-rezzed. It didn't take him long to reach where his friend lay sprawled on the ground, grid bugs all over him. Hacking through them one after another, he managed to grab his unmoving friend and pull him over his shoulder. That was when he realized something: Clu wasn't there. Clu wasn't fighting with him. _

_He didn't have time to worry about that at the moment—but he was going to have a lot to say to him as soon as they were safely in the light jet, that was for sure—and he kept running even though his legs ached and his processors were pounding. As soon as he reached the light jet—figures Clu's already inside, ready to drive, acting all innocent, he thought bitterly—he pulled the still unresponsive Ram in, sitting him in the seat next to Clu, and climbed in the back. _

"_Let's get outta here!" he yelled, and Clu obliged, shutting the doors and taking off in an instant._

_As soon as they were safely in the air, he exploded; he just couldn't help himself. "Why didn't you help me, you glitching viral?" he yelled. "The grid bugs could've de-rezzed both of us." _

_To his surprise, Clu just offered him a sly, yet still malicious smirk, "I had to get the light jet ready to go, Tron. You understand that right?"_

_He understood, but something about the whole situation didn't sit well with him. Glancing over at Ram—who was sitting slumped in the chair, his head resting on his chest, his circuits flickering—he sighed deeply. He was so caught up in his concern for Ram, he almost didn't hear Clu mutter under his breath, his voice filled with satisfaction, "This'll be easy." _

_2009 _

I

"What were you thinking, man?" Clu raged, glaring at him in a way that was usually reserved for his enemies. "I told you to repurpose him, and you…you decide to challenge him to a fight? What the hell's wrong with you?"

Jarvis knew there was no way he could possibly justify his actions—not when he allowed the conscript to get away…the conscript who had prevented Clu from eliminating the User. He knew he was going to pay for what he had done even though he wasn't sure anymore why he had done it. He should have known the stupid viral was trying to rile him up…and he had succeeded brilliantly. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" Clu snarled as he stalked towards him, a vicious sneer forming on his face. "Any pathetic excuses?"

Who was he kidding? There were no excuses for what he did. You've got to give the actuary some credit, Jarvis thought bitterly, well aware that he was about to be either de-rezzed or entirely repurposed. He can talk his way out of anything…

After a long moment of awkward silence—the low rumble of Rinzler's growl the only sound—Jarvis finally decided that he should just tell the truth and hope that Clu would be merciful…not that he would be; even though he was on the program's side he knew compassion wasn't part of Clu's programming. "I thought it would be better to de-rezz him…" he offered weakly.

The last thing he ever saw was Clu's identity disc coming towards him…a lethal blur…

II

Rinzler watched silently as his master nonchalantly walked through what was left of his once chief administrator. He had to admit that he respected him…had to admit that there was part of him that was afraid of him. Still, he knew de-rezzing Jarvis was the right thing to do give the circumstances…if he couldn't handle one lowly actuarial program, what was he good for?

Muttering to himself, his master paced around the room, and Rinzler tried to calculate for himself what the next move would most likely be. Well, the program Jarvis let get away has to have de-rezzed, he determined. So he's no longer an issue. Flynn's son had to be going to Flynn…but where is Flynn?

Finally, Clu spoke, and his frustration was all too apparent: "Stupid viral ruined everything again!" he growled, practically quivering with rage. "I wouldn't be surprised if glitching Ram was still out there somewhere, laughing at me."

Clu continued, but he didn't hear a word coming out of his mouth. Ram? he thought, his CPU frantically trying to determine where he had heard the name before. Ram?

He was vaguely aware that Clu was still complaining—still furious about what had happened—but he wasn't about to start listening. His CPU felt like it was burning as it tried to recall the memories hidden deep within him. Every time it felt like he was close to remembering, the memory escaped him…but…still…he knew that name, knew this "Ram" from somewhere.

But from where? And why couldn't he remember?

III

"You should've been there, Castor," Gem said rather slyly as she sat down at the bar. "A User was in the games today…and he managed to escape."

Castor looked up from what he was doing at the mention of there being a User in the games. But it couldn't be, he thought, beginning to feel slightly nervous because he knew Clu would probably be calling soon enough. Even though his curiosity was getting the better of him, he managed to answer nonchalantly, "Really? Was there anything else remarkably out of the ordinary, my dear?"

"Well," Gem smiled—still playing it as cool as ever, Castor thought dryly—and replied, "the Champion, well, the 'unofficial' champion, saved him."

That, to Castor at least, was far more surprising than the User's appearance on the Grid. "Wait, the Champion saved him?"

"Come on now, Castor," Gem grinned smugly, clearly aware that she had him right where she wanted him. "We both know the champion is really that actuarial program Ram, and we both know you're part of the reason he was locked up and put in the games."

"Well…did he escape with User?" Castor asked, trying his best to sound as flippant as possible. He couldn't have Gem thinking that he was afraid of some little actuarial program…even if he was once again an undefeated gaming champion…and very lethal from what he was told.

"You could say that," Gem replied, still smiling that smug smile at him. "He was damaged pretty badly…ran his light jet right into Clu's light cycle…but, yeah, he got away with the User and the ISO, Quorra."

For some reason—even though Gem said he had been damaged—Castor knew he'd probably be seeing the co-admin he'd betrayed soon enough…especially if the User had gone off Quorra…

But, being who he was, he'd make it through it…He would turn what could be a deadly situation into one that would finally allow him to achieve the influence he still craved…he hoped.


	13. Chapter 12

_Please read: I hope you all enjoy the latest installment and that the Ram, Flynn reunion scene was worth the wait. I'm hoping I got Flynn's attitude right lol. Anyway, liked I said earlier, I'm running out of ideas, especially for flashbacks. So any suggestions you have are welcomed. One last thing, this chapter is slightly darker than the others...you've been warned. Enjoy! R&R! ~Moore12~ _

**Twelve **

_1991_

_I_

_He had promised himself he wouldn't let Clu break him. He hadn't let the MCP break him, hadn't let the realities of the old Game Grid break him, and he wasn't going to let one smug program who naively believed in perfection break him. _

_It was proving to be an easier promise to make than to keep… _

_Even though he had been locked up for what felt like forever already, he knew of the purges, knew that Tron had been de-rezzed and Flynn driven—the coward, he thought harshly—away. The system was being slowly destroyed, and it was hard for him to sit there and not be able to do anything…not when so many innocent programs were being thrown in the games…and eventually de-rezzed, often by him. _

_Snickering weakly, he had to hand it to Clu: he knew exactly what to do to break him. _

_What Clu didn't know? He had figured out a way he could possibly escape. Often times, the guards that took the conscripts to the elevator that led to disc wars weren't exactly—how should he put it?—paying attention. No, they expected the conscripts to be broken, to be hurt…and he wasn't either of those things. And he had to bet he was a lot tougher than any of them…and had a lot more he was fighting for. _

_Leaning up against the back wall of the cell, he saw the guards were approaching. Here we go, Ram, he thought, quickly calculating there was only a 30% chance he would actually escape. Low odds, but it's better than nothing. _

_As soon as the guards deactivated the force field—barking at him to get out and come with them like a "nice little program" (who did they think they were talking to?)—he got up slowly. Keeping his head down to not make eye contact, he walked meekly out of the cell trying to appear as unthreatening as possible. _

_They had gone only a few steps—the two guards had already started gossiping with each other, totally unaware of what they were dealing with—when he attacked. Because he caught the guards completely off guard, he managed to de-rezz both of them with ease. _

_Without even stopping to make sure the guards were de-rezzed, he took off, running faster than he ever had in his life. He had to make it to the large door he assumed was an exit before anybody realized what was happening. _

_He was almost there—even though the alarm had (finally) started going off, he hadn't run into any guards—when he realized something. The guards…had only come for him. His CPU burning, he realized he had most likely walked right into a trap…that Clu had realized he would try to escape and wanted to tempt him in an environment that he controlled. He probably made it so no guards swarmed me to give me false hope, he thought bitterly, fighting back a scream of anger. _

_Still, even if it was a trap, he wouldn't go down without a fight…and he could always turn the tables and retake his freedom once again. He took off running again; well aware that he had to reach that door…had to get there before anybody found him. _

_When he reached the door, there was nobody there. Maybe I was wrong, maybe it's not a trap, he thought as he looked around. _

_He was about to open the door—even though he wasn't even sure where it led to—when a familiar and chilling voice rang out. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?" _

_It's over, he thought hopelessly as he turned to face down Clu, Rinzler and the Black Guard. At least de-rezz me fast… _

_II _

_He could have had the pathetic excuse for a program de-rezzed on the spot, but he decided it would be far more entertaining to keep him around and let him fight in the Games some more. Offering the conscript a smug grin when he turned to glare at him—yeah, you're real tough, he thought, laughing on the inside at the fact the two guards were practically dragging him along—he made a decision he knew he would never regret. _

"_You know, Ram," he said innocently, smiling his sweetest possible smile at the actuary, "We could…well…use a program like you." _

_He wasn't surprised when Ram, shooting him a dirty look, muttered, clearly trying to maintain his bravado to no avail, "What? Ya need someone to de-rezz you?" _

"_Come now, Ram," he replied, feigning shock, "Why would I want to see myself de-rezzed? No, man, what I'm saying is we could use a vicious program like you."_

_He chuckled at the little program's reaction to being called vicious—he flinched and appeared repulsed…and afraid. When Ram didn't respond, instead opting to put his head down, he continued, "You see, man, we have a little…problem, one that needs to be taken care of immediately. And, like I said, we could use a vicious program like you…"_

_For a moment, he was certain the little program wasn't going to speak. A weighty silence settled over them even as they walked to bottom level of the arena, where he was holding all the ISOs. Finally, the little program spoke, his voice filled with unchecked malice: "I'm not you. Why send an actuary to do a virus' job? So…" he paused—afraid, aren't you? he almost laughed—and then continued, his voice now cracking, "Just…just de-rezz me, alright?" _

"_I'm sorry, Ram," he replied smugly, enjoying the actuary's pain. "That's not part of the plan." _

_III_

_The little program was already howling in pain. He didn't envy him that was for sure; when the rogue conscript had failed to act on the command he had been issued, he had been placed on a device that would, he knew from his experience using the device on prisoners, slowly absorb his functions. Glancing over at his master, he saw that he seemed to be enjoying the scene…seemed to be enjoying this particular conscript's pain more than any other. "So, what do you say, man? Are you going to help me out or not?" his master mocked the conscript who had already fallen silent._

_To his surprise, as soon as they turned off the device for a moment, the conscript shot back, his teeth gritted in pain, his voice wavering, "I will never help you!"_

"_Brave words from a pathetic program," his master laughed, nodding for them to restart the device. "Since when do you care so much about ISOs?" _

_The device whirred to life, and, almost immediately, the conscript started screaming in pain. It was enough to make him shiver and, for a moment, he almost felt bad for the conscript who…looked vaguely familiar. Brushing the thought off—he deserves what he's getting, he thought—he glanced around the room at all the faces of the ten captive, unarmed ISOs who were chained to the walls, watching the scene in horror. _

"_What do you say now, man?" his master yelled over the conscript's screams, a grin forming on his face. "Do you want to help me now?" _

_To keep the conscript from de-rezzing, they turned off the device again. This time, he didn't have anything to say—no brave words, no defiance. He just stood there—his head slumped to his chest—whimpering in pain. He won't survive another go, he calculated, watching as the conscript slowly lifted his head and looked at his master, a broken expression on his face. _

"_You do realize it ends right here if you don't execute my command, don't you?" his master asked, sneering at the whimpering conscript. "You're going to sacrifice yourself for ISOs even though you know I'll have them de-rezzed eventually?" _

"_Alright," the conscript said brokenly, his face hardening, his eyes losing all of their fire. "I'll do it…but…you'll…" _

_He never finished the sentence. As soon as he was let down, he unhooked his identity disc and went to work…de-rezzign ISO after helpless ISO without speaking a single word. _

_Watching the conscript work—his face an emotionless mask, his eyes filled with regret—he knew his master had finally broken him… _

_2009 _

Flynn had thought he knew everything there was to know about the system. After the ISOs, he had been proven wrong, and he had changed his outlook of the world and the Grid. The ISOs—with their digital DNA and spontaneous emergence—were essentially the same as people…they would be his gift to the world, the proof that life in a way people could understand existed inside a computer. They would change everything—religion, science, philosophy—and nothing would ever be the same after he introduced them to the world. Humans…inside a computer, manifesting themselves just because of the right conditions: an impossible dream that had become a reality…something even he, the creator of the grid, had never expected. After the ISOs, he had spent little time thinking of anything else, and everything he had once deemed important became unimportant in the face of his discovery.

More than anything—or anyone, he realized with a pang—it was the programs that got lost in the shuffle. Programs he had stopped looking at as human…

Why he thought of that now—when he was staring what could be his death in the face—he didn't know. Maybe it was because Ram—the poor program he had essentially betrayed, the program who had known before anyone else what Clu was planning—looked so damn human as he crouched on top of him, his identity disc pressed too close for comfort to his neck.

With wild, pain filled eyes that spoke to all the agony he must have suffered, the little program studied him as if calculating how best he could kill him. His teeth were clenched, and, as always, he was an open book to Flynn. His anger, his fear, his resolve, his deep sadness, his pain…he wore all of his mixed emotions on his face as any human would. He was too human for comfort…and Flynn tried to think of him as layers of coding to no avail.

Ram was human…always had been.

Out of the corner of his eye, Flynn saw Quorra approaching, her identity disc ready to end Ram's…life. "It's okay, Q," he said softly, looking Ram right in the eyes as he said it to try to try to assure him he wouldn't hurt him…ever again.

The little program stared back at him questioningly but, quickly, he steeled himself again. Well, Flynn, this is it, he thought as he watched Ram raise his arm, readying himself to cut through his neck. It's been a good run. "Ram, bud, I'm so sorry," he whispered, not afraid to look the program that might end up his murderer in the eyes. "I never meant to hurt you."

He shut his eyes then and braced himself for the end. When it didn't come immediately, he opened his eyes again to see Ram staring back at him, a wounded expression on his face that was enough to tear his heart in two. Gone was the anger, gone was the fury…the only thing left was the sadness. Looking up at his arm that held the lethal identity disc, Flynn realized it was shaking. "Ram," he said, trying to sound reassuring, "Ram, it's going to be okay."

He regretted what he had said as soon as they came out of his mouth; I should have never told him everything would be alright when, to him, it never will be, he thought sadly as he watched the program's entire body tense. The fury reentered Ram's eyes, he barred his teeth once more, and he lifted his arm higher, preparing once again to strike.

And then he stopped. Quivering—it appeared to Flynn at least that all of the pain he had ever suffered was present in his eyes—he lowered his arm slowly and dropped the identity disc to the floor. With what could barely pass as a defeated half-smile on his face, Ram just slumped to the ground…his compassion having gotten the better of him.

Rubbing his neck, Flynn sat up and looked down at the little program that was just lying on the floor…completely harmless. It was clear that all of his fight had left him and, when he opened his eyes again, he looked away from him at first. When he finally returned his gaze, he offered him a weak smile and whispered in a small, scared voice, "De-rezz me. I…I deserve it."

"No, Ram, you don't," Flynn replied soothingly as he offered the program his hand to help him sit up. "I'm the one who probably deserves it after how badly I screwed everything up."

Ram didn't take his hand; instead, he pushed himself into a sitting position. A weighty silence descended on them as they just sat there, the gravity of what had happened washing over them both…changing everything, for Flynn at least, forever.

Finally, Ram broke the silence, his voice filled with such agony, it was hard to listen to him: "All…all of this could've been…avoided if you just listened…to me," he whimpered, staring up at Flynn with pain filled eyes that lacked their usual fire. "But…you didn't… 'cause… 'cause I'm just…"

Flynn didn't let the actuary finish his thoughts. Wrapping an arm around his trembling shoulders, he said kindly, "Ram, I don't know what they…did to you. But I'll tell you this: you're a…better person that most of the people I know."


	14. Chapter 13

_Hey all! Here's the latest chapter! Following Cyberbutterfly's request, I've decided to make a happy scene. Nothing will prepare you for the cuteness of Ram! Anyway, enjoy and R&R! I'm still taking suggestions for flashbacks from everyone so don't be shy... ~Moore12~ _

**Thirteen **

_1985_

_I _

_Man, it felt good to get out of the office. Even though he felt slightly guilty about leaving Clu behind to run the system by himself, it was fairly easy to brush off those feelings: the old gang was back together again, and it was great to get to show the easily excitable Ram around the Grid and listen to him gush about how great his creation was. _

"_I still can't believe you made all of this," Ram exclaimed without even turning to look at him; he was still staring out the window of the light jet in wonder, an excited grin on his face. _

_Like his User, Tron could be a bit of a stick in the mud, but he just laughed at his friend's awe. "It's supposed to look like a User city, isn't it Flynn?" _

_Before he could answer, Ram broke in, his smile widening, "That's what I thought you were going for! It's exactly how I always pictured one to be…" his voice trailed off and he added hopefully, "Do ya think you could take us to one?" _

_He had never really thought about that honestly, but glancing over at Ram and back at Tron who, to his genuine surprise, looked just as hopeful as the actuary, he had to wonder if it was possible. Bringing programs to my world? he thought. Well, if I can be here…maybe they can go there. Besides, what could it hurt to take them there in the future, especially when revealing them to the world will change everything? "I can't see why not," he finally chuckled in response. _

"_Really?" Ram's eyes grew wide with amazement—he can't believe I'd actually take him, he thought with a laugh—and then he continued, his voice a cascade of enthusiasm, "We could go get—what do you Users call it?—ice cream and…" _

"_Hey, who told you about ice cream?" he asked, turning around to shoot Tron a look._

_Trying his best to look wounded, Tron responded, "Hey, don't look at me, Flynn. I don't even know what that is!" He paused and then added, grinning mischievously, "You heard about it back in the old system, bud, didn't you?"_

"_Yeah," Ram laughed, shooting Tron a knowing look. "One of the guys on the cell block started glitching and all he could say was 'I want ice cream…now!' It was hilarious." _

"_Sure," he replied dryly, a smirk growing on his face. "That's exactly what happened…" _

_He was about to continue—about to give the two programs a better description of ice cream—when Tron interrupted him. Smiling sheepishly, he admitted, "Yori told me about ice cream a long time ago, and I may have just mentioned it to Ram."_

_Laughing hysterically, Ram quipped in response to Tron's admission, "Wait! That was you raving about ice cream? User, I would've never known…"_

"_Ram…" Tron sent Ram a warning look that only made the actuary laugh harder, his words so garbled by his laughter it was impossible to make out what he was saying. Quickly, he found himself laughing too—man, his laughter is infectious, he had to admit—and even Tron eventually chuckled. _

"_It's good to have you back, man," he said as soon as the laughter died down, smiling over at the little program. _

_II_

_When they arrived back at the compound, Flynn had excused himself, whispering something to Tron about having to go get his surprise. He didn't have any idea what it could be and he couldn't honestly understand why Flynn would give him something—being alive again was the greatest gift he could ever be given—but he didn't say anything. Whatever Flynn wants to do is fine by me, he thought as he listened to Tron offer some bogus explanation of Flynn having to check on Clu and make sure everything was okay. _

_He was about to ask Tron for the real explanation of what was happening—as an actuarial program (well, former actuarial program) he didn't really like being left in the dark—when a vehicle he didn't recognize came screeching around the corner. Kind've looks like two light cycles pressed together, he thought as he stared at in wonder. User, that's sweet. _

_As soon as the vehicle stopped, Flynn got out and exclaimed, "So, what'd you think of it, man? Isn't it great?" _

"_Yeah," he finally said after a moment of just staring at the vehicle in wonder; it was all he could say because he was—for the first time in so long—speechless. _

"_Would ya look at that, Tron," Flynn laughed, turning to Tron who was just smiling. "Ram's speechless. Ram! Never thought I'd see the day." _

"_I know, right?" Tron answered, a smile creeping onto his normally stoic face. Turning to him, he continued, his voice a joking plead, "Come on, bud, say something. Anything!" _

_Still staring at the vehicle—User, they didn't have these in my old sector, that's for sure, he thought—he asked, "What's it called?" _

"_It's a light runner, Ram," Flynn explained, and, when he turned to look at him finally, he saw that he was smiling. "And it's all yours." _

"_What?" he exclaimed, completely shocked; there was no way he would have ever calculated this future outcome even though he had a near perfect success rate. "Flynn, I-I can't…" _

"_Nonsense, kiddo," Flynn just grinned, the laughter still in his voice. "It's all yours. So how about you take it out for a spin?" _

_And, as he drove way, he still couldn't believe all of this was really happening…It can't get much better than this, he thought, laughing to himself. This is just too glitching awesome! _

_2009_

I

"I just have one question," Sam said softly as they sat around the table in extremely awkward silence. "Why didn't you come back?"

And, as Flynn talked, Quorra realized that something wasn't right; there was a part of this story that Flynn was leaving out intentionally, something that he was hiding. Still, she sat in silence as Flynn tried to explain why he had never come home to Sam…and seemingly completely oblivious that she and Ram were in the room as well.

She watched as Sam's scowl had vanished after Flynn explained that he couldn't get out because the portal closed on him, probably because he finally realized he hadn't abandoned him willingly, she figured. Still, there was something Flynn was leaving out…something that she personally needed to know. And it was something to do with abandonment, given the look on Ram's face as Flynn discussed how he wanted to go home for Sam.

Her gut told her that Ram could give the answers she desired, even if he had attempted to kill Flynn upon waking up. When he noticed that she was staring at him—jeez, Quorra, don't be so obvious about it, she told herself—he just stared back in glum silence. She couldn't say that she trusted Ram—even though Flynn had forgiven him, she couldn't really get over the stunt he had pulled—but, still, somehow she knew he would give her a more truthful picture of what was going on.

"The ISOs were going to be my gift to the world," Flynn was saying, that intense look back in his eyes she had seen so few times over the cycles. "They were going to change everything—science, religion, philosophy. Everything, Sam!"

Glancing over at Ram, she realized that he was glaring at her; a small, sad smirk on his face, his eyes still spoke to all of his pain, all of his fury…that clearly hadn't been dissipated just by Flynn saying he was sorry. What is really going on here? she wondered as she looked away from Ram because she just couldn't look him in the eyes anymore. Why does he seem to hate me so much when he doesn't even really know me?

"I was going to show them to the world, man!" Flynn exclaimed, pounding his fist on the table when he did. Then his voice became softer, and he added, "I may still…"

Sam looked like he was going to ask a question when Ram snorted. All eyes turned to him almost immediately, and he just smirked. "Right," he muttered. "'Cause that'll happen."

Instead of confronting Ram—which Quorra had thought he would—Flynn just looked away from the little program and said seriously, "I believe I forgot to properly introduce our guest. Sam, Quorra, this is Ram. Ram was—along with Tron and Clu—one of my co-administrators."

Quorra watched as Ram's face scrunched up in anger and was surprised when he didn't say anything in response. That was when it hit her: Flynn had originally not mentioned that Ram was a co-admin; no, he had just told Sam that it was him, Tron and Clu. Clearly, if she wanted answers, she'd have to ask Ram…and not Flynn.

And, for the first time, she wondered if she could trust her mentor after all…

II

Wait? Wait? Was his dad out of his mind?

Sam just stared at his father, unable to believe what he was hearing. His dad—who he always wanted to believe was fearless…a hero—wanted to sit around and wait? He didn't want to try to get back to the portal where the program that had destroyed his creation and his life could be destroyed? He just wanted to…sit there and do nothing when the portal was open and everything could be changed for the better. It didn't make any sense, but his dad had made it very clear that was going to be their course of action.

Well, if it was up to him. As he had admitted, Clu had changed the game by bringing him there…and he was going to change it. Whether Dad likes it or not, he thought as he watched his dad retire for the night, still shocked—and fairly upset—by the turn of events.

When he glanced over at Quorra, she just shot him a sympathetic look. Clearly, she knows all about Dad's inaction, he thought bitterly. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Ram—who was, in his opinion, fairly psychotic—was staring at him, a rueful smile on his face. "I'm sorry, kid," he said softly, his voice extremely bitter. "Flynn's not gonna do anything."

Sam was about to ask Ram why that was—clearly, he knew more about his father than even Quorra—but he didn't get the chance. Curling up on the couch—and offering him one last crooked, sympathetic smile—the little program promptly powered down without another word.

"I'll show you to your room," Quorra said softly, gesturing to a hallway. "Come on."

Before they left the room, Sam grabbed Quorra by the shoulder. "Look, I don't care what Dad says, alright?" he said seriously, hoping she would go along with him. "I need to get to that portal."

"Your father said we should wait," Quorra replied hesitantly, and he could tell she wasn't really convinced by what she was saying. "And I believe we should trust his judgment."

"Look," Sam exclaimed, wanting to make her realize more than anything that this wasn't how they should do things…that maybe, just maybe, her mentor was wrong about something. "You don't seem the type to sit around and wait. So, please, will you help me?"

"Alright," she finally replied after a moment of awkward silence. "There's a program I once knew called Zuse. If anyone can help you, it's him…all you need to do is get to his sector."

Now this is what I'm talking about, Sam thought as he offered Quorra a small smile. Got to dive into things headfirst…

III

Ram awoke with a start; his CPU pounding, he sat up and looked around frantically. After a moment, he sighed with relief. It's nothing, he told himself, allowing himself to shut his eyes once more. Nothing's wrong. You're…well…relatively safe.

For some reason, he couldn't just power down again. Everything that had happened once again hit him—he could almost see Flynn's terrified face—and he slumped to the ground. It almost felt like his processors were breaking apart, almost felt like he was losing everything that made him who he was. Oh, right, he thought bitterly. I already did. I'm just as bad…as Clu…

"Ram?" a voice broke him from his terrible thoughts, and he looked up to see the Quorra staring at him, a concerned expression on her face. Yeah, let's just stare at the glitching program, he thought dryly as he pushed himself off the ground and back onto the couch. "Are you alright?"

"What'd you care?" he muttered, not wanting to deal with the stupid ISO at the moment…or ever. He honestly just wanted her to leave him alone because he couldn't bear to even look at her. Brought back too many painful memories…just as most things did these days.

"Look, Ram," Quorra growled—trying to intimidate me of all programs, he almost laughed—and glared at him, "I don't know what your deal is, but I know you know something…something that Flynn isn't telling me."

Wow, she's smart, he thought, his classic smirk forming on his face again. But there's only a 2% chance I'm going to tell her what she wants to know. Still smirking at her, he asked, not really expecting much of an answer, "I'll tell ya what you want to know…if you tell me what in the name of the Users woke me up."

"Sam," Quorra responded immediately, a smile forming on her face. "He's going to the portal. I sent him to someone we can trust."

You got to be kidding me, Ram thought as he just stared at the ISO, trying to suppress his anger. "And who did you send him to?" he demanded, unable to believe this was really happening, that the stupid ISO had probably allowed the User to walk into a trap.

"Zuse," she replied, seemingly confused and angered by his reaction. "Why? What do you care?"

Upon hearing the name of the program—that glitching viral that helped Clu capture him all those long, brutal cycles ago—Ram exploded on the inside even though he managed to remain calm on the outside. This wasn't happening…this couldn't be happening. He wasn't going to…he was. He had to help the User; it was just a part of his programming. "Well," he muttered bitterly, glaring up at Quorra. "You sent him right into a trap. Good job."


	15. Chapter 14

_Hey all! Sorry it took so long to update. This week has been crazy with my vacation coming up. Anyway...hope you enjoy it and please review. (Thanks to Cyberbutterfly for all of the awesome suggestions!). I love hearing what people think (and please no flames - there are probably more typos than usual). Enjoy and R&R! ~Moore12~ _

**Fourteen **

_2001_

_I_

_It wasn't supposed to be like this. For the last few years, he hadn't been as bothered by what had happened all those long, painful years ago. High school was everything high school was cracked up to be—long sleepless nights, partying, SATs, girlfriends. It was all a welcomed blur of excitement and activity that had helped him to, for awhile at least, forget. _

_But now, about to walk onto the stage to collect his diploma, it all came back to him. All the pain, all the anger came back to him, and he just wanted to scream. This was supposed to be his special day but it wasn't…because he had lost both of his parents and was sharing it with—how should he describe them?—two of his dad's former employees who tried to act like they were family. It was exactly how, when he was a kid still thinking his father would come home, he had imagined his graduation to be…not. _

_Time seemed to stand still. It almost felt like everybody's eyes were on him—he, the young heir to the Flynn fortune, he who, one day, may end up running ENCOM—but he knew, deep down inside, they weren't. Nobody really cared what became of him; nobody really knew him for him. Few saw the scars that wouldn't heal anymore, few knew that behind all the bravado was a boy who still wanted to know the secrets of his past—secrets he already knew nobody could tell him. Not Uncle Alan who tried so hard to be the father figure he never really had, not Aunt Lora who had once—he had found out through the grapevine—dated his father. His grandparents before they passed away knew as much as he did. For all he knew, his father was dead, and part of him believed his life would be easier if Uncle Alan would just admit it… _

_And, as he accepted his diploma, he felt the overwhelming emptiness he had been trying to hide from for years and had to wonder what the hell he was going to do. _

_II _

_How many cycles had it been? He didn't even know anymore. Ever since he had been damaged, he hadn't been put in the games. Snorting under his breath, he guessed it wasn't because Clu was merciful—stupid viral doesn't know anything about that, he thought bitterly—that it wasn't because he had felt it necessary to spare a program he hated more than any other. No, this was torture, this was all part of a plan to make him as out of practice as possible so the next match would see him de-rezz._

_And, for some reason, that didn't scare him like it used to. He had de-rezzed before and it wasn't too terrible—aside from the pain and the knowledge it was all about to end. Now the knowledge all this could end was welcomed; more than anything, he wanted all of this to be over and, well, if deresolution was his only route to salvation he would take it. _

_Hope? How could he hope for anything when he knew that nothing but a bunch of cold circuits would he waiting for him if he ever got out? And he wouldn't get out anyway because escape was impossible. All of the times he had told his fellow conscripts that there was still hope for them he had been telling lies; he was just trying to escape what he was becoming…what Clu was slowly turning him in to…trying to maintain what was left of his spirit—which, he had to admit, was already broken—what was left of his fire. _

_Forget it, Ram, he told himself, allowing the hopelessness and the sadness to finally wash over him. He's already won. It's official. _

_That was when a guard appeared at the entrance of his cell and lowered the force field. He didn't even need to be told what to do; he rezzed his new black tinted face shield, got to his feet, and walked out willingly, well aware that old functions die hard. _

_III _

_He dreamed of his son for the first time in cycles, and the meaning wasn't lost on him. Even though he wasn't the best at tracking how many cycles had passed, part of him knew he had, once again, missed an important moment in Sam's life._

_Sighing deeply, he got out of bed, well aware that he wasn't going to be able to escape this memory like he was able to escape all the others. Flynn, you old fool, he thought sadly as he walked into the main room of his house. You went chasing after perfection when you already had everything you could ever want… _

_As soon as he was settled on the floor—ready to meditate to escape all of his terrible thoughts—Quorra emerged from the hallway and asked, "Flynn, are you okay? I heard somebody get up, and…" _

"_I'm fine, Quorra," he replied after a long moment where he contemplated whether he should share his grief. "I just dreamed of Sam again." _

_Quorra offered him a weak, knowing smile and asked him the question he was hoping she wouldn't, "Do you think you missed something again?" _

_Well, you might as well say something, man, he thought as he got up again to take a seat on the couch. "Well," he said softly, still not really wanting to admit what he already knew. "I'm not 100% sure, Q, but I think I missed Sam's graduation." _

"_Do you want to talk about it?"_

_Surprisingly, he did; for once, he didn't want to avoid the reality that his dream had ruined everything… _

_IV _

_He looked out over the Game Arena—one of his favorite places in the entire system, he had to admit—and couldn't hold back a triumphant laugh. He would finally be rid of the little virus that had given him so much grief by planting the seeds of resistance in other program, by not just going to his deresolution silently, by surviving for an unacceptably long amount of time. It's over, man, he thought, still grinning. This is it. _

_But it wasn't, and he knew he had been wrong to keep the conscript in isolation for so long. There was something far more vicious about him; even after the ISO incident, he wasn't as ruthless, wasn't as quick to de-rezz a fellow prisoner. He de-rezzed his first opponent after catching his identity disc and throwing it into the corner—he proceeded to pin the defenseless program down and de-rezz him by smashing him in the face. The next, he angled a perfect shot off the back that sliced through his head; poor program didn't even know what hit him, he thought, well aware that his plan was failing. _

_In the end, Ram—under the new name "Rez" because he hadn't wanted anyone to know of Rinzler's failings—was victorious. Standing in the compartment, amidst the broken pixels of the last program he slaughtered, his gaze never travelled from the floor; never once did he look up at the crowd; never once did his turn to where he was sitting, watching his every move. _

_Broken but still fighting, he thought as he watched the Ram with a newfound respect…and fear. You have to give him some credit. But what the hell is he fighting for? _

_2009 _

I

After excusing himself for a moment—what the glitching actuary was doing, Quorra didn't know—Ram reappeared, a small, rather triumphant smirk on his face. Even though she wanted to know what he was doing and what had taken him so long, she didn't because they didn't have time for an argument. "Let's go already," she muttered, ushering the smaller program to the "garage" (well, that was what Flynn called it).

She was about to get into the driver's side of the light runner when Ram pushed her aside, a—it couldn't possibly be—real smile on his face. "I get to drive!" he exclaimed, climbing in without offering an explanation as to why he was qualified.

"Are you glitching?" she asked, wanting to pull him out and strangle him. "This is my light runner! Flynn gave it to me…"

Quorra was about to continue but something about the way the program was looking at her made her stop. He looked unbelievably hurt and also slightly angry. But, almost immediately, the look morphed into what his usual smirk and he quipped, "Well, it was mine long before you even rezzed so yeah…I drive."

Who was this program? She had to wonder even as she climbed into the passenger's side, a position she was willing to take only because they didn't have time to squabble over who was going to drive when Sam's life was evidently in danger. She had to wonder even as Ram started the light runner and shot her a crooked, understanding smile; he knows I'm confused, she realized with a start. And he's…he's enjoying it.

Somehow, she already knew Ram wouldn't be inclined to answer any of her questions.

II

Quorra had been right; Zuse had found him. Sitting on a stool in Zuse's private lounge—listening to the program speak of forged identity discs and the like while wondering if Gem was hitting on him—Sam didn't even stop to wonder if he was truly safe there.

That was when he heard the sound of windows crashing and the sound of screaming, and he realized he had been wrong to trust the barkeep that went by Castor. Cursing under his breath, he leapt down from the lounge and into the heat of the action; he had willingly walked into a trap and he would get himself out of it.

The moment he hit the ground, he was attacked by a member of what he assumed was the Back Guard—his dad had mentioned them and said they were particularly vicious…and they were. After de-rezzing the first guard with relative ease, he found himself trying to fight off two at once…and it wasn't going well.

Sam was about to admit defeat and surrender—all he could do was hope that Clu wanted him alive—when, out of nowhere it seemed, Quorra appeared in front of him, wielding a sword that reminded him of one of the light sabers from Star Wars. "What took you so long?" he asked jokingly as she de-rezzed one of the programs that had been giving him the most grief. He couldn't say he was surprised that she didn't reply…

But, still, even with both of them fighting there were just too many of them…too many especially given he barely knew what the hell he was doing. Just as one of the Black Guard pinned Sam to the ground after shoving Quorra away—she had been taking the brunt of the abuse—Ram (where the hell did he come from? Sam had to wonder) came up behind the program and sliced through his head, a small smile on his face.

"That all you got, User?" he snickered as he turned and—casually, so very casually—de-rezzed the program that Quorra was struggling with. "Let me handle this."

III

It was almost too good to be true; his plan was coming together absolutely perfectly, as most of his plans did. Clu could already see all of his plans coming to fruition, could see himself leading his army into a new—and soon to be conquered—frontier. Sam turned out to be just as dumb as his father, he thought, a smug grin growing on his face. Probably never thought we could track the light cycle back to its previous location.

They had finally done it; they had finally located where Flynn had been hiding out—the coward that he was—for all those countless cycles. Walking into the small house—well, he's probably been living the life, Clu thought, with a smirk—he quickly scanned the premises for danger. Nodding to Rinzler to search the house, he looked around and tried to fight back the amazement he was feeling…it looked exactly how he always pictured a User home to be…

Brushing the thought off—he would not (and could not) give the coward User any recognition for his accomplishments—Clu just waited for Rinzler to return, flanked as usual by two of the Black Guard. It looks empty, he thought, wondering if he had missed his chance at finally taking Flynn down. But that doesn't make any sense…

Just as he was about to curse the Users—curse Flynn in particular for once again slipping out of his grasps—Rinzler emerged from the darkness of a nearby hallway, leading a surprisingly unresponsive Flynn by the arm.

Clu could almost feel his circuits light up at the site and—well, why not? he thought—couldn't fight back a laugh. It was over; finally over—he had won. "I'm surprised, Flynn," he managed to say though his laughter, "That you haven't put up much of a fight."

"Well," Flynn replied—what was that look on his face? sympathy? it possibly couldn't be—a sad smile on his face, "Some things aren't worth fighting for."

Snickering at the thought that this wasn't worth fighting for—because, after all, Flynn had to know as well as him that his disc held the keys to everything—Clu stalked over to where the self-pronounced "great" User was standing. He circled Flynn for a moment—allowing his latest (and most likely greatest) accomplishment wash over him—before roughly unhooking the identity disc from his back. "Not so tough are you now, eh?" he growled.

To his surprise, Flynn clearly wasn't afraid of him—there was no cowering, no fear in his eyes. Instead, he still was wearing that look on his face—that irritating pitying stare—that was enough to infuriate Clu further. He couldn't understand how he could possibly pity him when he was the most pitiable creature Clu had ever had the misfortune of meeting. When Flynn finally replied, his voice cracked slightly, "Clu, I'm sorry you don't understand the truth. Just…give me a chance to explain everything, alright?"

Explain? Explain what? His incompetence? His fear of perfection? Why he wanted to remain shackled to the altar of imperfection? No; the time for explanations had passed and now was the time for action….the time to carry out his objective and change the entire world. Grinning, he didn't answer Flynn. Turning to Rinzler, he ordered, "Take him to the light jet."

The time had come.


	16. Chapter 15

_Hey all now things are really getting interesting...It's officially an entirely different animal than the movie. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the latest installment. Enjoy and R&R! ~Moore12~_**  
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**Fifteen **

_1988_

_I _

_Flynn didn't even look up when he entered the room, carrying the lifeless Ram in his arms. The little program—he could tell by the rapid flicker of his circuits, by the unhealthy whirring of his processors—was in dire need of attention. He was about to ask Flynn for help, but the User spoke first, his voice seething with rage, "What the hell happened out there?" _

_For a moment, he stood there, completely stunned by Flynn's reaction. The User hadn't even turned around to face him, no, he was just staring at a message he had received on his walkman that had been equipped to work on the Grid and was used to communicate directly with the ISOs. He was about to tell Flynn that Ram needed help desperately and that whatever he was upset about could wait, but he just continued his rant: "How hard is it to take out a hive, man? But, no, you screw it all up, and some ISOs were killed because of your stupidity. They're…" _

_He couldn't wait around and listen to Flynn rage—he couldn't let Ram de-rezz…couldn't let him suffer that fate again—so he broke in unapologetically, trying his best to remain calm, "Flynn, Ram needs help. It's not good." _

_When Flynn turned around, it was hard to not to notice that his anger hadn't been dissipated over the fact his friend needed help—and was that disgust on his face? He gave Ram a cursory glance—what in the name of the Users is going on in his head? he wondered—before turning to him. "What the hell happened to him?" he asked exasperatedly…almost like he didn't want to be bothered by this. But it couldn't be, could it? he wondered, his CPU burning at the thought. He has to care about his friends…_

"_Something went wrong, Flynn," he explained hastily as he laid Ram down on the floor. "They swarmed Ram after…" _

"_Let me look," Flynn cut him off gruffly; it almost seemed like he was taking out his anger and frustration on Ram based on how roughly he pushed him over and unhooked his identity disc—leaving the little program lying face down. Without even looking down at the program—what has gotten into him? he had to wonder—he accessed his identity disc to assess the damage the grid bugs had caused. _

_Even though he was confused—and fairly unnerved—by Flynn's behavior and treatment of poor Ram, he had to admit it was captivating to watch him work. He worked with such precision—weeding through the damaged coding and fixing it—it was enough to make him slightly jealous. He's a User, he reminded himself. Programs can't even understand half of what he's capable of. _

_Still, he wanted to know how it was coming—especially given that Ram's circuits were duller than they were when this process began—so he asked, "How's it coming?" _

"_He'll live," Flynn just muttered as he continued moving through Ram's coding. He clearly wasn't too enthused that everything was going to work out; it was something he couldn't compute because, well, it didn't make any sense. Ram and Flynn are friends, he thought, trying to pull up an explanation from the depths of his memory. Why's he acting like this? And then the User added under his breath, giving him the answer to his question, "Unlike the ISOs." _

_That wasn't fair, and he wanted to tell him so. It wasn't even Ram's fault that everything had gone so horribly wrong, wasn't his fault that something—what, he didn't know and he knew Flynn would pick his argument apart because of it—made a noise and caused the bugs to swarm. It wasn't his fault there were too many, that they had to take off to get away and left some alive, it wasn't his fault he was injured… why didn't Flynn understand that? To his own surprise and without even really stopping to calculate what the right thing to say was, he blurted out, "Ram could've de-rezzed, Flynn! I couldn't let that happen!" _

_Flynn looked up from his work—clearly not at all worried about Ram, who was looking even worse—with an incredulous look on his face. And then he scrunched up his face in anger and offered a retort he wasn't expecting: "Next time you try to play hero, Tron, remember I can just bring him back. Keep your priorities in order." _

_With a pang, he realized what Flynn meant; all of the emphasis he had placed on the word "him" gave it away in an instant. His CPU balking at the thought—he just didn't want to accept what Flynn had said—he was left speechless once again. Finally, after a long moment of awkward silence, Flynn finished his work and hooked the disc onto Ram's back, muttering something he could barely make out about how the "worthless actuary could've ruined everything" _

_Flynn clearly wasn't going to wait to see if everything worked out; as soon as the disc was on Ram's back, he got up to leave. Seeing that he wasn't following him, he ordered gruffly, "When he wakes up give him an energy drink or something." _

_And, right before he left, he added loudly enough for him to hear, "Now I have to worry about more important things." _

_II_

_It was too easy, really. He almost had to laugh at his good fortune. What was the expression Flynn always used? Yes, it was almost like he was "killing two birds with one stone." Even though it was slightly disturbing to see that his User was so easily molded—never seems to be able to truly make up his mind, he thought—it usually worked in his favor. After all, Tron was too busy trying to be the best program—naïve fool still seems to think Users are gods, he almost laughed—possible and Ram was…well…Ram. Entirely useless, a waste of pixels…one of many things wrong with what was supposed to be a perfect system. _

_And now, he could continue molding Flynn's opinion of his world—it was the perfect time to do so. Sitting in the light jet on the way to "check on the ISOs," he was a captive (and receptive, he figured) audience. So, he offered him an apologetic smile and said softly, "I'm really sorry about what happened today, Flynn. It just couldn't have gone any worse." _

"_You can say that again, man," Flynn muttered after a long moment of silence that initially had him convinced he wasn't going to take the bait. "ISOs…died because you couldn't just do your jobs." _

_Shaking his head, he responded, trying his best to sound saddened by the situation, "It really is a shame that they were hurt because of what happened." _

_I've got him right where I want him, he thought gleefully as Flynn's head shot up at his use of the phrase "what happened." Now he remembers that he wanted to ask; knowing Tron he was too concerned about Ram to offer their side of the story. Would it be hard for him to hide that he was to blame for what had happened, that he had caused the sound by quickly banging his disc against the light jet? Hardly, he almost laughed. _

"_And what did happen, Clu?" Flynn asked, unable to hide his annoyance…and interest. _

"_It was Ram," he replied simply, masking his smile with a frown. "Stupid viral missed the hive completely with the light grenade. I mean, some were de-rezzed in the blast, but most just fled the hive. They swarmed him, and Tron ran off to save him…" _

_Scowling darkly, Flynn just muttered, "I should've known." With that, he returned his complete attention to piloting the light jet; he didn't even bother to ask him what his role was in the debacle. Too easy, he thought, fighting to hold back a laugh. This is just too easy. _

_2009 _

I

In a way, it was almost beautiful to watch. The program was precise, fearless and most importantly deadly; each move he made was so well orchestrated and calculated, each move he made gave him an even greater advantage. The Black Guard was considered the best of the best—they were lethal programs designed specifically for fighting—but even they couldn't stand up to the program Castor knew all too well. Even though his face was obscured behind a black tinted face shield, he knew it was Ram, essentially back from the dead…and with a vengeance too.

Ram had already de-rezzed all but one of the programs that had come to take Sam because of his message; and, after artfully dodging a blow to the head, he cut through the last program remaining with the sword he had grabbed from a protesting Quorra. Well, show's over, Castor thought as he began to sneak towards the exit, Gem right behind. I better get going…

He had been expecting to be able to slip away unnoticed—after all, with the User and Quorra to take care of why would he stop to worry about him?—but was hardly surprised when Ram tackled him from behind before he reached the elevator. He had to admit it wasn't a good feeling having an identity disc pressed against the back of his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Gem rush—great ally she turned out to be, he thought bitterly—directly into the elevator…the doors quickly closing behind her. It was just him, Ram and two other hostile individuals. Still, he knew he had a chance.

"Fancy seeing you again, Ram," Castor tried to chuckle, although it was fairly difficult to given that Ram was on top of him and about to de-rezz him. "What can I do for you?"

For a moment, all Castor could hear was the low, intimidating rumble of a growl…a growl that sounded so much like Rinzler's it was terrifying. But, for all of the obvious reasons, it was more terrifying to be at the mercy of a program he had betrayed, a program who, he knew, he had doomed to a life of pain and suffering. And then, it stopped, and Ram snickered rather sadistically, "What can ya do for me? What can ya do for me? Well…huh…let's see. How 'bout you do me one small favor."

"And what might that be?" Castor asked, trying to hide the fear in his voice even though he knew it was a lost cause. He knew what Ram being here meant for him if he couldn't find a way to escape before it was too late, and the thought it was all going to end was so terrifying…he could understand why Ram was so angry. After all, he had lived with this feeling for most of his life…

"Well," Ram said, rather innocently in spite of his choice of words, "how 'bout you don't scream when I de-rezz you, you pitiful viral."

Should he even bother to beg for forgiveness, to beg for mercy? Castor knew that, despite their hatred for one another, Clu and Ram were more alike than either would admit. Both never seemed to stop to consider the consequences of their actions—well, Ram did in the past, that wasn't fair of him—and both weren't known for being the most compassionate. Clu had committed genocide, and Ram—as "Flic" and "Rez" in the games—always put his own survival first and had committed his share of atrocities along the way (or so he had heard). So, no, he wouldn't beg for mercy because Ram would be unreceptive anyway…he wanted to de-rezz him, and he would. It was that simple.

Castor would go to his end in a dignified manner…and that was that. He braced himself for deresolution, but it never came. Instead, the weight was lifted off of him, and he pushed himself to his knees to see that Quorra had tackled a now struggling Ram to the floor.

And now things will really get interesting, he chuckled.

II

If he regretted anything, it would be that his son had been pulled into the mess he alone had created. Sitting in the small room, knowing trying to escape was futile, Flynn reminded himself that what had happened was nobody's fault but his. It wasn't Clu's fault—he was a misguided reflection of himself, made during a time he didn't know that the imperfect system really was, in its own way, already perfect. It wasn't Ram's fault—poor program had tried so hard to warn him, and he hadn't been willing to listen to him. It wasn't Tron's fault—he was loyal to the bitter end…and it wasn't by choice he had become Rinzler. His heart broke over the memory…he had saved Quorra, yes, but he had lost Tron forever, even though he didn't have the heart to de-rezz him when he had the chance. What had happened was his fault, and he had lost so much because of how blind he was. He didn't really know his son. Clu—who was, he knew all too well, himself—was a mass murderer that had betrayed all of his friends. Tron was Rinzler. And Ram, Ram was broken so badly, Flynn knew he would never be the same again; he was a different kind of animal, far from friendly and exceptionally lethal.

And all of this was his fault…he couldn't blame anyone else. He was going to change the world, and all he had done was destroy his own life and taken down others with him.

Part of him knew he wouldn't be able to reason with Clu—no, I was as stubborn as a mule back then, he thought sadly—and, for the first time, he was truly afraid. Because Clu wanted him alive for a reason…even though he had already obtained the identity disc that held all of his secrets.

As long as he didn't hurt Sam or other innocent individuals—Flynn bitterly figured this was probably already part of his "great" plan—he could do whatever he wanted with him. He had caused the mess, so he should be the one to pay for it…except Clu probably wouldn't think that way. No, Clu wanted to do something big, something that would change the entire world—but not in the way he himself had envisioned it. And that was when it hit him.

Clu isn't content with merely ruling this system, he thought sadly, kicking himself on the inside for allowing this to happen. He wants to rule the entire world as well…and he needed my disc to get out.

It was over; Flynn knew that now. All he could do was sit back and watch his own creation finish his destruction of everything he held dear…and the world as well.


	17. Chapter 16

_Here's the latest chapter. It may be the last for a little while 'cause I'm running out of ideas and motivation. Just wanted to thank the usual suspects...you guys are the only reason why this fanfic has gotten so far. Anyway, enjoy and R&R! (who knows, if you do I may think of something) ~Moore12~_

**S****ixteen **

_1991_

_I_

_At least Clu is clearly in a good mood, he thought nervously as he watched the self-proclaimed "hero" of the system sit down at the bar. Rinzler—as social as ever, he almost smiled—stood a little way off, issuing his typical low growl. "What can I get for you today, Clu?" he asked, masking his fear behind his natural flamboyance; all he could do at this point was hope that Clu wasn't paying him a visit because of what he had allowed the End of Line to become. _

"_Well," Clu replied coldly, looking up at him with vaguely disinterested eyes, "for one thing, you could stop helping the ISOs." _

_Trying his best to look scandalized—all the while trying to figure what had given him away so quickly—he replied smoothly, "My dear, why on earth would I want to help those disgusting creatures? If you ask me, we're all better off without them." _

_Glancing over at Rinzler, Clu just nodded slightly. For a moment, he was convinced he hadn't really seen anything, that the nod was a figment of his sometimes overactive-when-nervous imagination. Besides, he thought fearfully, they wouldn't attack me with this crowd here. And then, Clu said, smiling a boyish smile at him that was so much like his User's, "I'm glad you feel that way, Zuse. So now you can do me a little favor…"_

_And now he's just playing with me, he thought bitterly as he forced what he knew would come out as a pained smile. "And what kind of favor are we talking about?" he asked, managing to maintain eye contact with Clu…just barely and only because he knew if he dropped his charade for a moment, Rinzler would pounce. _

"_You want to know what's funny?" Clu answered—a snarl to his voice that hadn't been present before—with just another question, leaving him to calculate what his real plan was, what he was really after. "I've just broken the most stubborn little viral you could ever hope to meet, and I can't seem to crack you." _

_Don't answer the rhetorical question, Zuse, he told himself, wondering if now was the time to back towards the exit slowly and then make a break for it. Don't let him see your fear… He wasn't at all surprised when Clu used his silence to continue, getting up out of his chair as he did to loom over him, "As for the favor I was asking of you…you should know it isn't optional. And it is imperative that it is done quickly."_

_His façade cracking, he only nodded numbly. He knew there was no getting out of this one; he knew if he refused, Clu would have Rinzler pounce and that would be it…he would be de-rezzed at his own club, made an example of. And if it was one thing that he really cared about it was his own survival. He put himself first in all things, his ethics and morals aside. Besides, he thought, I can always parlay this into greater influence for myself…just as I did when I agreed to help the ISOs. _

"_I'm glad we've reached an understanding," Clu snickered, a smile creeping across his face once more. "You see, Zuse, I have a little problem. The End of Line has become, well, a safe haven for ISOs—don't try to lie your way out of this one. But it stops. Now. And you will help me track down the last ISOs remaining, am I understood?" _

"_But of course, Clu," he replied; he had no choice. But, still, working for Clu couldn't be that bad. He had done it in the past and, even though he knew it was wrong, it had bought him more time…and it was arguably beneficial to have Clu has an ally rather than an enemy. _

_Clu just smiled and, motioning for Rinzler—and the rest of his guard (where in the name of the Users did they come from?)—the attack began… _

_II_

_He stared at the wall blankly, unable to process what he had just done, what he had allowed himself to become. He stared at the wall, the crippling pain washing over him, and knew he had been broken. It was truly over. Sighing deeply, he buried his head in his hands in an extremely futile attempt to hide from his pain, to hide from the atrocity he had just committed…_

_He didn't know how many micros passed, didn't know how long he stayed in that position, allowing the numbness and pain to wash over him. But, finally, something inside of him snapped. His CPU throbbing with pain—still can't figure out what the hell I just did, he thought wryly—he screamed. He screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed and when he finally stopped, he didn't feel any better…it was hardly the cleansing force he thought it would be. _

_Nails digging into the palm of his hands—he was too numb to feel the pain but it was enough to cause some pixels to flake away—he felt the silence descend upon him once more, felt its weight and its gravity…it applied greater pressure than ever before and almost felt like it could crush him. Why did I do that? he wondered bitterly, holding back another scream. What am I? _

_And then it hit him, and he made a vow he knew he would never break, a vow that, if he got the chance, he would make the viral that had destroyed so many innocent programs pay. Even if it caused his deresolution… _

_III_

_It was easily the most difficult decision he had ever had to make. The decision to run away, to hide, to essentially give up when he still had some fight in him, was agonizing. But it was necessary…all too necessary. The portal had closed, he would probably never see his son again, the ISOs—his gift to the world—were being massacred, Tron and Ram had most likely been de-rezzed long ago, and Clu was in complete control. The more he resisted, the stronger he seemed to get; the more adamant he became about completing his objective, the more vicious he became. _

_Still, he had something left to do. Something vitally important, the one thing he wouldn't allow himself to screw up. Well, Flynn, he thought sadly as he looked out over Tron City from his perch in the midst of the Outlands, you fucked everything up. But…you can still change the world…if you ever get out of here. _

_And, so, turning into the shadows, he knew it was time to play the waiting game. It was time to wait for Clu, for Rinzler, to slip up so he could save at least one ISO to be his gift to the world. Once that was done, there was nothing left to be done and nothing he could do. He accepted his fate…he accepted the reality he alone had created for the first time… _

_2009_

I

"Are you glitching?" Ram snarled menacingly as he easily pushed her off of him and got to his feet. "You'll let him get away!"

Quorra just stared at the program for a moment—well aware that he was going to de-rezz Castor (or was it Zuse? she wasn't quite sure)—and blurted out the only logical thing she could think of under the circumstances, "Shouldn't we get some information out of him first?"

Turning towards where Castor was being held by Sam, a small growl escaped from Ram's throat but he didn't make another move. All I can do now is hope he doesn't do anything stupid, Quorra thought as she watched the little program closely, trying to determine what exactly was going on in that CPU of his. Finally, he just de-rezzed his face shield and offered her a small, defeated nod before turning away.

As soon as Ram had acknowledged she was correct, Castor broke in, his voice an exaggerated plea, "Oh, darling, you can't let that awful viral near me. His CPU is on the fritz, and I have information you may want…"

Before she could reply—tell him that this wasn't a game to her and she would get the information out of him even if he didn't really want her to—Ram, who had stalked across the club, pixels of de-rezzed programs crunching under his feet, shot back, "Go frag yourself!"

"Language, dear," Castor just laughed before turning his attention back to Quorra, a sly smile forming on his face. And then he continued, keeping his voice low as if the "secret" he was telling them was incredibly important, "As I was saying, darling, I have some classified information that is—shall I say?—vital for you to know…"

"Stop playing games," Sam growled angrily, a scowl forming on his face. "Just tell us what we need to know now."

"You really do have an odd taste in friends, don't you, Quorra?" Castor chuckled as he pulled away from Sam and took a few small steps towards her. Out of the corner of her eye, Quorra noticed that Ram had circled back and was watching the program intently, almost like one of the hunters she had read about in one of Flynn's books. "Well, then, I won't hold it against you…First, I have a question. Sam—that is your name right, dear?—how did you get here?"

Sam just glared at the program before replying coldly, "I took the light cycle. But you already knew that, didn't you, Zuse? Or…should I call you Castor? Either way, I know you're lying because you're the one who called those programs in!"

Shrugging exaggeratedly, Castor sighed, "Either is fine, my dear User. And the fact that I called in the Black Guard doesn't really matter right now, not when your grave mistake may end up costing you all everything you hold dear…"

Finally, Quorra got a word in edgewise. "Are you trying to say that they can use the light cycle to find out where the hideout is?" she asked, trying to conceal the panic in her voice. If that was the case—and she hoped he was just lying in order to buy himself some time, the sneaky virus—then he was right: everything would be lost if they didn't do something.

"You really are sharp, aren't you?" Castor smiled. "That's exactly right."

II

No! It couldn't be. Sam wanted to scream, wanted to beat the crap out of someone or something…preferably the stupid program that had delivered the bad news. He couldn't believe he had been so stupid, had essentially given up where his father had been hiding for all those years. Stifling a choked sob, he managed to ask necessary question that he already knew would be answered with more bad news: "Do you think they already made it there?"

"I'm sorry, kid," Ram replied softly from where he stood across the club, his eyes filled with real sadness. "There's a 100% chance they did…"

Quorra just shook her head—she won't even look at me, Sam realized with a pang—without saying a word. He wasn't surprised when Castor broke the uncomfortable silence, acting as if it didn't even exist: "Well, now that you all are no longer in need of my services, I think I should be going…"

Honestly, he was too numb, too preoccupied to have registered what the program had said because he didn't even move to stop him. Quorra took a few steps—but clearly didn't seem too interested in stopping him either. The realization that everything was on the verge of being destroyed far outweighed either of their fears about what Castor would do should he escape…

Unsurprisingly, Ram wasn't about to let him get away. Before Castor even came close to reaching the elevator, he bolted across the club and easily tackled him to the floor, causing Castor's identity disc to skitter away. For a moment, he wasn't sure what was happening, and Quorra was slow to react as well. "Ram, don't!" she finally yelled just as he was about to bring the identity disc down—he doesn't seem to care about de-rezzing programs at all, Sam thought in wonder. "We need him alive!"

"Why?" Ram spat, his circuits flashing red for a split second (or did they? I could have imagined it, Sam had to admit). "Why should we let a traitor live?"

"Ram, he could be of help," Quorra argued, clearly trying to keep her tone even despite her anger…man, she's pissed, Sam thought. But why would she be? He did try to kill me…

"No," Ram snarled viciously, shaking his head harshly. "No, he won't. And after what he did, after what he caused…"

"My dear," Castor said smoothly, clearly unperturbed by the fact Ram was about to de-rezz him, "Why do you blame me for acts that you alone committed?"

III

Ram just stared at Castor, trying desperately to calculate the meaning behind what he had just said. When it finally hit him, it was almost like taking an identity disc to the gut, and he let out a small, low whimper. Because, deep down inside, he knew Castor was right to say what he had said; he had to admit that he had been the one to de-rezz all those programs…not Castor (or Zuse, or whatever he was calling himself anymore)…not Flynn…not even Clu. Some moral compass you turned out to be, he thought wryly, allowing a small smirk to sneak onto his lips. You don't even have any morals of your own…

This has to end here, Ram told himself, fighting his own prompts that were urging his functions to de-rezz Castor. This has to end. Biting his lip a little too hard—he was too numb to feel the pain of his teeth digging into his lip—he got off of Castor…even though his functions protested.

Brushing off the sensation, he stalked away, turning his back to the enemy even though he knew better. Maybe I'll get lucky and he'll de-rezz me, he thought cynically, his smirk changing to a sad, bitter smile. Wouldn't that be nice? Knowing Castor, there's an 80% chance he'll strike when I'm not looking.

Sure enough, he heard Quorra gasp, heard Sam yelp in surprise—and, spinning around rapidly because he couldn't help himself—he saw Castor coming right at him, his identity disc raised. Without even stopping to consider everything he had just thought about, he threw his disc—striking the barkeep directly in the stomach. And, as Castor's pixels rained down, he slumped to the ground, burying his head in his hands and biting back a scream. He tried to justify his actions—he was going to de-rezz you and he deserved it for landing you in the games! his CPU screamed—but the cruel reality remained, torturing him.

A micro passed before he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up at Quorra—stay strong, man, don't let them see you're weak, he told himself—he forced a pained smirk and quipped, "Who needs him anyway? Bet he learned…"

"Ram," she said softly, cutting him off as she offered him a hand to stand up, which, to his own surprise, he took. "It's going to be okay."

And, for some reason, he believed her.


	18. Chapter 17

_Please read__: My knowledge of the Tron universe is limited to the two movies (and what I read on the Tron Wiki). Because of this, I am hesitant to say that this is fully canon (esp. in regards to this particular scene). So, I've decided to do a full rewrite of this section because, well, this is a fanfic that is quickly diverging from Legacy. So please don't flame me telling me this is off base because I recognize that. I decided to change things slightly to make my particular story make more sense…and I'm working exclusively from the movies and not the comics (or video games). Anyway…R&R and enjoy! I love hearing what you all think…~Moore12~ _

**Seventeen **

_1988_

_I _

"_Are you seeing this, man?" he asked, staring in wonder at the procession of programs—but were they programs, he didn't really know—coming out of the desolate wastelands of the Outlands. Ram, blinking in surprise, nodded, clearly as curious as he was to figure out what exactly was going on down there. Clu had his jaw dropped open, a slightly nervous look in his eyes. _

_Tron—as always trying to be the rational one, he almost laughed—replied hesitantly, staring at the large group clearly as amazed as the rest of them, "Yeah…they're probably just programs…"_

_But even then they all knew that couldn't possibly be a reasonable explanation. That large of a group of programs they had never seen before…Something was happening; something big was happening that could potentially change everything in a way he didn't even imagine. _

"_Come on," he said, trying to—for a reason he couldn't really explain—hide his excitement. "Let's go see what's happening." _

_Before he even took a step towards the light runner—motioning for Ram to get in to drive him down—Clu broke in darkly, "How are we sure it's safe to go down there? We should run a diagnostic…make sure they're not viruses…" _

"_Clu, do they really look like viruses?" Ram laughed in response—he was as excited as ever despite Clu's misgivings, he realized—a smirk forming on his face. "Jeez, man, is your CPU malfunctioning again? 'Cause, ya know I could fix it for ya if…"_

"_Alright, guys, that's enough," he interrupted before their argument distracted them from their real objective. Turning to Clu, he added, trying to soothe his program, "Clu, they're probably not viruses. I mean, that really doesn't make any sense. It'll all be alright." _

_Before Clu could offer another argument against going down there—which he clearly was based on that scowl on his face—Tron asked seriously, acting as if nothing was wrong at all, "Do you want Clu and I to follow in the light jets?" _

_That was right, he had almost forgotten Clu and Tron couldn't use their light cycles in the Outlands like Ram could use the light runner. Something about having Clu and Tron swoop down on the unsuspecting newcomers didn't sit well with him, so he shook his head. "No, that won't be necessary. Ram and I will go down and you two can wait up here." _

"_We'll be right there if there's a problem," Tron vowed, offering him a confident smile. "Good luck, Flynn." _

_Luck? Didn't Tron know he had the best luck in the world? _

_II _

_He wasn't designed to understand things like this and wasn't really sure what Flynn meant by it being a "miracle" but it was still fascinating. He stared in wonder at all of the programs—or "ISOs" as Flynn kept calling them—that had just randomly appeared out of nowhere. The very thought that was possible was enough to make his CPU protest, but what he was seeing was very much real; he couldn't deny that. _

_Not wanting to interfere, he quietly stood by Flynn's side and watched for danger, as usual, even though he just knew nothing was wrong. It was hard for him to pay attention to what Flynn and the apparent leaders were talking about—what was it that Flynn always says about me? right…that I "have the attention span of a flea"—so he just looked around. He quickly realized that many of the "ISOs" were staring at him, and it made him feel slightly uncomfortable. "Flynn…" he murmured, shifting to try to hide himself from their gaze to no avail. _

_For some reason he wasn't surprised when Flynn didn't answer him; he knew he was too caught up in conversation to be bothered and that didn't really upset him. He knew it wasn't his place to bother the User when he was "working." So, he put his head down and stared at his feet; which, for reasons he couldn't understand, made some of the ISOs standing nearby laugh. What's so funny? he wondered, feeling even more self conscious and out of place. _

"_I can't believe it," Flynn was saying, his voice filled with excitement. "You all weren't created by Users…you're just like people!" _

_Something about that statement unsettled him to his very core—wait, didn't Flynn always say us programs are like people? he wondered—but he brushed the feeling aside. Shivering, he knew everything was about to change…and all he could do was hope it was for the better. _

_III _

_He listened patiently as Clu ranted—grumbling something about how Flynn should really think before he acts, especially because they didn't know anything about those programs—but wasn't really paying much attention. From their perch, he watched as Flynn talked to one of the programs who, he figured, must be the leader. Ram was standing at his side with his head down; for a moment, he wished he was down there instead of his old friend because, well, he'd do a better job keeping Flynn secure. _

"_I still say we should run a diagnostic!" Clu's voice tore him abruptly from his thoughts. _

"_I doubt that's going to happen now," he replied calmly, well aware that Flynn was clearly thrilled by the sudden appearance of those fairly strange programs. He could read it in how he was talking—all of the needless hand movements, the huge grin he wore across his face—and he knew. Even if Clu begged for a diagnostic, he wouldn't get one. Because those clearly weren't viruses, but he couldn't quite calculate what they were. _

_They're not Basics, he thought, blocking out Clu's subsequent protests to try to determine what was going on. They can't be; Users create Basics…I didn't just randomly appear one day, and neither did Ram or Clu. We were all created for a reason… And since when do programs just appear out of nowhere? It just didn't compute. _

_Apparently everything he knew was wrong; and the thought was enough to make him cringe… _

_IV _

_This wasn't good. This wasn't right. This shouldn't be happening. _

_He had to stop it; all of his prompts were screaming at him, ordering him to find a way to make this…this…atrocity stop. But he couldn't do anything. The sensation of helplessness—a feeling he was finding he didn't like (more than anything he wanted to go back to being in control—washed over him. He couldn't stop what was happening, not with Tron there watching his every move, not with that irritating pest Ram down there guarding Flynn. And…he knew his User wouldn't be happy with him, even though—since it was his command, after all—he'd probably thank him for it later when he finally realized the error of his ways. _

_If you want perfection, Flynn, he thought bitterly, this isn't the way to get it. _

_And, even as he ranted at Tron who, he knew, wasn't really listening—even though a security program should be more concerned about random programs appearing out of nowhere—he started calculating what the right course of action would be. For a moment, he envied Ram; if it was one thing the actuarial program was good for, it was figuring out the most effective course of action to take. Stifling a growl, he launched into another bitter argument for running a diagnostic, hoping to maybe sway Tron's opinion of the situation, plant seeds of doubt in his CPU…_

_I'll appear to be giving them a chance, he thought, a smile creeping across his face. And then I'll strike when it's least expected. And then we'll be back on the right path again… _

_2009 _

I

The kid's panicking, Ram thought wryly, listening to the User yelling at Quorra, not even bothering to ask him for advice…as usual. Huffing sullenly, he wondered why Users were so often so glitching stubborn, so self-absorbed. He is his father's child, he almost laughed.

"What?" Sam turned on him—finally! Ram thought bitterly—and snarled. "Do you have any bright ideas? Do you know how we can save my dad?"

For a moment, he paused, unsure of what to really do. He had a plan—a good one in fact, one that gave them all a remarkable 75% chance of survival—but…he wasn't sure how Sam would take it. He may be just a program—and not even a good one at that, he thought sadly—but he knew he couldn't just tell the kid to leave his father behind. Even though he didn't fully understand why that was—he didn't, as Flynn had told him once when he was angry at him, have a "heart" (whatever that was)—he still knew better. So shrugging helpless, he replied, "Yeah, I've got something. But I don't think you're going to like it."

Glaring at him, Sam turned his attention back to Quorra who looked just as glitching panicked as the User did. Snickering weakly—they don't make 'em like they used to…oh, right, I'm the only program here—Ram decided not to say anything. So Quorra broke in, clearly trying to be calm, "We have to save Flynn and his disc."

"And why's that?" Sam yelled—wasn't made for practical thinking was he? Ram wondered, only slightly amused. "Is that damn disc more important than Flynn to you?"

Seeing the wounded expression on the ISO's face, Ram decided it was time to interfere and get this over with as quickly as possible. Getting up from the stool he had been sitting on, he placed himself in between the two and faced Sam. Here goes nothing, he thought cynically. "Sam, don't say Quorra doesn't care about Flynn, a'ight? 'Cause she clearly does. And…yeah…I know you're upset and everything but, in a way, the disc is more important than Flynn."

Here comes the explosion, Ram thought sadly, bracing himself to be tackled or worse. Instead, Sam just growled, "That's easy for you to say. And what the hell do you know anyway? You're just a program."

For some reason, the insult didn't sting like it used to. Because, well, he knew he was just a program…and he had learned to accept it over his cycles in confinement. In the grand scheme of things, he didn't matter…but neither did any of the Users really. Sighing, Ram continued, keeping his voice calm, "Yeah, I am just a program. But that's made me realize that some things are just…bigger than all of us. And—I know you don't want to hear this—the disc is bigger than Flynn. Because, if Clu gets it he'll be able to escape. And then it'll be the end of line for your entire world."

Shifting uncomfortably—what? was what I just said really that profound? he wondered—under Sam and Quorra's gaze, he wished somebody would just say something…anything. Finally, Quorra—still staring at him in wonder—asked the question he had assumed she would, "Wait, you said if Clu gets the disc. But…he has Flynn so doesn't that mean he has his disc?"

"Yeah," Ram muttered, hoping Sam wouldn't de-rezz him on the spot, "about that…"

II

It was the moment Clu had been waiting for. All of those cycles spent waiting, spent wondering—allowing him to stew over what had happened, allowing his rage to build—were not for nothing. He held the key to ruling both worlds which was, he knew all too well, the only way to make the system truly perfect. Because, after all, the User world that Flynn spoke so highly of was forever intertwined with the grid, locked in what was supposed to be a symbiotic relationship that was in reality only causing the system harm. Well, that all ends now, he grinned, accessing the identity disc for the first time, all too ready to learn Flynn's secrets.

What he saw when he accessed the disc was enough to make him scream. Because, what Clu saw wasn't Flynn's face staring back at him but…Ram. But it can't be, he raged, staring down at the digitalized face—that was, of course, he thought bitterly, smirking—it just can't be.

It didn't take him long to accept what he was seeing—and, because of his fury, he hurled the disc into a wall—so he yelled for Rinzler. At least I know where the disc is, he told himself, trying his best to remain calm. And at least I have Flynn…which will probably make Sam come to me and, knowing Ram, he'll follow. He would never abandon a User, the naïve glitch.

As soon as Rinzler entered the room, he started barking orders: "Rinzler, I need you to find the User—Sam Flynn—immediately."

When Rinzler didn't leave right away, Clu realized that he must be confused—after all, we did just capture Flynn which was the whole point of bringing Sam to the grid. So, he slowed down and explained, as if to a child, "A program that is with him has something that belongs to us…Flynn's disc. You find Sam, you find the program."

Issuing his typical growl, Rinzler just nodded and stalked away, leaving Clu to stew over his latest misfortune. Well, I can't just sit here and wait, he thought dryly. Time to pay my old friend a visit…

III

Looking at Clu was looking in a mirror to his past, and it was far more unsettling to do so than it once was. But, he knew now wasn't the time to sit there and philosophize about the true nature of his world, about what had caused all this to happen. "What do you want?" Flynn asked finally after a long moment of silence where he just stared at the glowering reflection of himself.

"You're not so tough now, are you?" Clu replied, clearly hiding behind false bravado. Flynn knew instantly because he was wearing the same expression he used to wear when having to talk to Lora and Alan at the same time. He would hide behind his bravado to act like what he was seeing didn't bother him, that nothing at all was wrong. And, if he knew anything about himself, he knew something was wrong and Clu was trying to hide it from him.

Grinning at his program—because he knew it would annoy him—Flynn just chuckled, "Oh, Clu, you really haven't changed, have you?"

A low growl erupting from his throat, Clu didn't say anything in response at first. When he did speak, he had regained his composure and seemed oddly smug. "You think you're so clever don't you? You thought you could outsmart me by switching discs with that stupid virus you call a program, but you failed. Rinzler's on the way to intercept them, and, trust me, he won't fail like you did."

Well, Flynn had to admit, this is an interesting development. But how could Ram have stolen my disc? It must have been when I was sleeping… Even though he didn't know how the disc mix up had occurred, he decided it would be best to take credit for it: "Wow, I never thought you'd figure it out so fast, man! I should've known better."

"You never really think before you do anything, do you, Flynn?" Clu asked coldly, looking at him like he was just a bug he was about to squash under his boot.

"I dunno, man," he said innocently in response, offering him a boyish smile. "But if I don't that probably means you don't either…"

Laughing—still as cold as ever—Clu just walked out of the room, leaving Flynn to sit in the blackness and contemplate everything that had happened once again…

Well, it's up to Ram now, he thought sadly micros later. I just hope he knows what he's doing…


	19. Chapter 18

_Hi guys. Here's the latest chapter. It has a slightly different format than all the others, so enjoy! Also, this is the point where things are really going to diverge from the movie so keep reading...It only gets more interesting from here on out. R&R all! ~Moore12~ _

**Eig****hteen **

_1989_

_I_

_What happened? For a micro or two, he just lay there, unable to move or even attempt to begin trying to calculate the answer to his question. When he finally summoned the strength to sit up, he found that he couldn't; he was chained down to a table, in a dark room he didn't recognize…and pain surged through his processors. _

_This can't be good, he thought bitterly as his CPU scrambled to pull up the memory of what had just happened. User, Tron, what did you get yourself into this time? _

_And then it all came rushing back to him…walking on the outskirts of the city…expressing his concerns about Ram's disappearance, about Clu in general…Clu appearing out of the darkness, circuitry a menacing yellow—the color of the enemy Ram had always said he was…fighting so many programs…saving Flynn from Clu…_

_Did Flynn get away? he wondered frantically, well aware of what would happen if he had failed. _

"_Well, well, well, you're awake," Clu's voice tore him from his painful thoughts and caused him to issue a low growl…which only made the program chuckle. _

"_What's wrong with you?" he spat, unable to control his fury and—he betrayed all of us, he thought bitterly—remain calm and rational. _

_Shooting him a scandalized look, Clu said calmly, a smile remarkably still on his face, "Nothing, Tron. I'm just trying to fulfill my directive to the best of my ability. You understand that, don't you?" _

"_This isn't what Flynn meant!" he yelled, unable to process what Clu meant, why he felt that doing this to them…his friends…was right. "This isn't what he asked you to do! He never wanted you to betray your friends…" _

"_No, he didn't," Clu replied steadily, a slightly sad look on his face, "he told me to make the perfect system. This is for your own good…" _

_It was then he realized what was about to happen, and he knew he had failed. He had handed himself to the enemy, had failed to keep fighting when it was so important. Deresolution, he knew, was preferable to what he was about to undergo…and he should have kept fighting so they would have been forced to end him. Flynn, I'm so sorry, he thought miserably. I'm so sorry… "Clu," he said, his voice cracking, "Did Flynn get away?" _

"_He did," Clu growled, the rage making another appearance in his eyes; seeing that one last time…knowing he had helped Flynn escape…was enough for him, who was well aware that he couldn't fight the inevitable. I'm sorry, Flynn, he thought. It's all up to you now… _

_II_

_He tried to hold on, but the memories were fragmenting into unrecognizable pieces, his prompts had stopped ordering him to resist, and he could feel himself breaking apart. His very coding was under attack, being overwritten by new commands and functions, and there was no way to escape what was inevitable. Soon he would no longer be the same program…soon he would have a new function that, knowing Clu, would be terrible. _

_But, quickly, even those thoughts faded away. The rewrite of his coding nearly complete, he had become a blank slate—entirely unaware of who he was or what he was going there. _

_And then…one last prompt fired a futile directive…I fight for the Users…_

_Error. _

_I fight for Clu. _

_III_

_He felt nothing. He felt nothing even as he led the attack on the city, led the slaughter of countless innocent programs. His prompts told him what to do; his functions initiated—it was too simple really. He didn't even need to stop to calculate what he was doing. The programs didn't have a chance against him because he had been designed to fight—to wage his master's war—and they hadn't been. He was his master's "perfect" weapon, and nothing could stand in his way. _

_When it was over—walking through the crushed pixels of the victims—he stopped for a moment to contemplate if this was right…it this was just…The idea was enough to make his CPU protest._

_Error. _

_This is right. This is my purpose…my sole function. _

_1993_

_Where were they? Ever since the enemy had escaped with the ISO, there had been no signs that he even still existed. Growling at the memory of letting the pair escape—that was one memory he couldn't seem to escape, a memory that helped feed his aggression—he stalked over to where a group of programs were talking in hushed whispers…unaware he was watching them. _

"_I heard Flynn is still alive," the one program was saying in a hopeful tone that was enough to make him cringe. Flynn is the enemy, his CPU told them. If they want him back…they are the enemy. The program, still unaware, continued, "He's still with us, so maybe he'll help us get rid of the tyrant." _

_That was all he needed to hear; the prompts issued their commands, and his functions—without pause, fueled by his rage at failing his master—executed them precisely. When he was done, not one of the five programs was left alive…and none even knew what had hit them. _

_Come on, you viral, he thought as he walked away, not even considered with what he had done anymore. Come out and face me… _

_1999_

"_Ram?" The name caught in his throat; his functions protested initiating the commands of prompts urging him to finish off the now helpless conscript. His CPU straining—grasping at the fragmented memories locked away somewhere inside him—he stared down at the face that was so agonizingly familiar and tried to remember. Piecing together the fragmented memories with what he had seen—the conscript was better than most…and far more talkative…and had called him "Tron"—he saw a shimmering pool of pure…_

"_Finish him!" his master's voice roared over the loud speaker, and the memory was lost, replaced with a single, simple message he encountered too frequently for comfort. _

_Error. _

_The program squirmed underneath him—a futile motion, why he was even bothering to attempt to escape, he didn't know—and it felt…right…to see his fear. Or did it? And who was Tron?_

_Error – initiate command. _

_His functions acted on the command, and all of his misgivings were washed away…bringing the identity disc down on the program's face, he followed orders…the memory slipping away once more. _

_2001 _

_He had to admit, the new conscript was good. Too good for comfort. And there was something about his fighting style that felt vaguely familiar even though he was fairly certain he had never faced him before. Despite being much smaller than almost all of his opponents—which was, he knew, normally a deresolution sentence—he was quick, precise and…ruthless. Blinking behind his black tinted face shield, a memory that had been lost for so long tore through him…causing his CPU to protest…_

_He was in a system he didn't recognize—in a cell for reasons he couldn't explain. A face—a face that was blurred…not clearly in focus—was looking at him through some kind of force field. "Ya know what?" the program snickered; he could just make out the smirk on his gaunt face. "I told 'im to go frag himself." _

_And then the memory was gone, and he returned his attention to the game…to the one conscript in particular. He knew him. He knew who he was…he was the program in the memory…he was…a…a…friend. _

_Ram. _

_Error. _

_His name is Ram. It isn't Rez. And…and I know him, he thought, his CPU burning. He tried to grasp at the memory again, tried to remember the face, remember what he looked like… _

_Error. _

"_Rinzler," his master called, allowing him to escape from the seemingly omnipresent "error" message. "You won't be facing the winner this time. I want him alive." _

_Nodding to acknowledge his master—all the while watching as the smaller conscript de-rezzed his last opponent, only to stare at the ground…hardly triumphant—he tried to process what he had remembered. Before he got very far, his master tore him from it: "And, Rinzler, there's been a report of activity in the Outlands that I want you to check out." _

_With a mission—an objective he needed to complete—the memory slipped away again…and he was once more without any doubts of who he was and where he came from…_

_2009 _

It wasn't exactly difficult to find them, not when they hadn't even left the End of Line Club yet. What was it that his master always said about Users? That they weren't exactly the most efficient creatures? Watching the trio intently—they were clearly arguing about something—Rinzler tried to calculate when it would be best to make his move. Turning the light jet around to get in position—slightly amazed they hadn't noticed him—his prompts urged him to attack. It's time, he reasoned. Bring the User in alive, secure the enemy's disc, de-rezz the others.

Without another calculation, he de-rezzed the light jet, sending himself crashing through the already partially broken window and into the club. Landing on his feet, he quickly unhooked his identity discs and quickly surveyed the scene. The User was the kid—and it might be harder to get him to come than he had thought initially—de-rezzing the female program would be easy…but the other program…He would be a challenge. He clearly wasn't one to go down without a fight.

"Go!" that program yelled, and, in one fluid motion, he unhooked the disc from his back and hurled it right at him. "Get out of here!"

Rinzler hadn't expected the program to move so fast, and he actually had to do a near backbend to avoid having his head taken off. The disc ricocheted off the back wall and right back to the program that didn't waste any time launching it again. Growling with rage—well aware the program was trying to distract him, was essentially giving himself up to save the others—he blocked the disc with one of his own…and, prompts urging him to attack the female, he did. It made complete sense…the User and the female were about to escape on the elevator, after all.

Before he reached the female and the User—who were, he almost laughed, now frantically pressing the button for the elevator—the smaller program lunged at him, his identity disc a deadly blur. Not wanting to be bothered, Rinzler easily swatted the program away, sending him crashing to the floor in a heap, his disc skittering away. I'll finish him next, he vowed…

Error – initiate command now.

Glancing over at the pair—the female had turned, rezzing a sword, to face him, the User was still pounding on the control pad for the elevator—he couldn't compute why finishing off the little program was so important. He was struggling to get up and clearly wasn't a threat…

"Tron, don't do this." The program's weak voice came from behind him, distracting him for a moment. Blinking warily behind his face shield, trying to focus on the female who had advanced three cautious steps towards him, he tried to calculate where he had heard that name before.

Error – Tron program terminated.

"Tron," the little program's still weak voice came again, wavering even more, "Tron, don't hurt them…You'll regret it as long as you live."

Why does he keep calling me Tron? Rinzler wondered, hardly aware that the female program was edging closer still, that the elevator was only a few floors below now. Am I Tron?

Error – you are Rinzler. You fight for Clu.

That was when the female attacked—tearing him instantly from the error message—and he blocked her move effortlessly. Without a second thought about the mystery of the name "Tron," he went on the offensive, slashing at the female with both discs…quickly, he had her backpedaling…That's right, he almost laughed. It's all over for you.

He had her backed into a corner—the User was yelling to her to get out of there, that the elevator was there—and his prompts were urging him his functions to de-rezz her, end the game when he heard that same voice call in a mocking tone, "Hey, Rinzler, how 'bout ya pick on someone who can actually fight for a change!"

Rinzler wasn't about to let the annoyingly talkative program distract him again; instead, he knocked the sword from the female's hand, rendering her completely helpless, and was about to end her pitiful little life—that'll teach her to side with the enemies, he thought—when the program yelled "Tron" again and he remembered a memory that had been hidden for so long…

Instead of the black haired female he was about to de-rezz, he saw a face so agonizingly familiar, it made him gasp in pain. It was the face of the one he had loved more than any other, the face of the one he had lost so long ago. He wanted to cry, wanted to kiss her even though he knew deep down inside she wasn't really there was just a vision…a mere…

"Yori," he breathed, hardly aware of where he was anymore…still seeing her face…still wanting to kiss her more than anything in the world…

Error.

His functions initiated almost of their own accord, his hand reaching out to grasp the program's neck…squeezing it…Still, he was hardly aware of what was happening; he still saw Yori, and he fought the urge to de-rezz the program who he thought was her…

Error – initiate command, terminate program.

Before he could act on the command, Rinzler was tackled to the ground by the little program who had, to his surprise, de-rezzed his face shield…leaving him to stare at an all too familiar face he couldn't quite place. The program pinned his arms to the floor—he couldn't reach either of his discs, and he knew what that meant—but didn't seem at all inclined to de-rezz him. "Get outta here, Quorra!" he yelled, and Rinzler could only watch as both the User and the program he had failed to de-rezz got in the elevator…and escaped.

Mission – failed.

Deresolution – imminent.

To his surprise, the little program just smiled a crooked smile at him and said softly, "Do ya remember me?"

And…almost instantly…he was transported to the place he didn't recognize, and the blurred face from before was defined…the program in the cell next to him…his old friend…former co-administrator…was the program sitting on top of him…was…Ram.

Error.

Go frag yourself, he almost snarled at the error message. Because he remembered…the memories were pouring back to him…allowing him to disregard the error messages and push them away for the first time in cycles…

Yori…

Alan-One…

The games…rezzing up Sark with his actuarial buddy…

Ram…

Flynn…the User on the Grid…

Taking down the MCP…

His first cycle in the new system…

Clu…

The coup…

Being repurposed…

"Ram," Rinzler whispered, ignoring the error message, combating his own programming for the first time in ages because he remembered who he really was…that he was Tron and not Rinzler... "Ram, I'm so sorry…"

"Always knew you were still in there, Tron," Ram offered him a weak smile, the sadness in his eyes all too apparent. "Figured it out back when you couldn't de-rezz me back in the games…"

Sighing deeply—with a pang, Tron realized that his old friend clearly didn't trust him fully—Ram got off of him and warily stalked a few steps away, his disc still at the ready. Collecting his own discs—despite his realization, he was still fighting his prompts that were urging him to de-rezz Ram while he was distracted—Tron replied softly, "You better get out of here…just in case…"

Before he could finish his thought, he saw out of the corner of his eyes red-circuited figures hurdling through the sky…They're here because I've taken so long…they think I need help, he realized. He was about to yell at Ram to get out of there—go protect the User…keep Flynn's disc safe—but he was too late…the members of the guard landed in the club and instantly focused all their attention on Ram.

"Ram, go!" Tron yelled, hurling one of his identity discs—which fortunately de-rezzed one of the unsuspecting programs—before pushing the baton for his light jet into his hand. "Get the User to the portal!"

"Tron, I can help!" Ram protested, and Tron had to grab him to keep him from attacking the guards. And then, he seemed to remember what his function was, and he just nodded, offering him a sad smile. With that, he rezzed the light jet and shot over the guards and through the window…

And, as he turned to face down the programs, he was happy that not all memories could be washed away…that he could fight for the Users once more…


	20. Chapter 19

_Hey everybody! Thanks to everybody who has reviewed; you all are really the only reason why I'm still writing this. This chapter introduces two new themes, so I hope you enjoy it. Plot twists abound. R&R and enjoy! ~Moore12~ _

**Nineteen **

_1985_

_I_

"_Flynn, is there something wrong?" Ram asked worriedly, staring up at him with fearful eyes. _

_Sighing deeply—well aware that he had just completely torn apart many of his blueprints in a fit of rage—he replied, unable to keep his voice from cracking, "No, nothing's wrong." _

_For a moment, they just stood there, and it almost felt like the silence could crush him. Finally, Ram spoke again, his voice hesitant: "Are you sure?"_

_What was he supposed to say? How could he possibly explain death to a program that had absolutely no idea what it was? Still, he needed to talk, and if Ram wanted to listen he would. "I…I lost someone…my wife." I couldn't even get the sentence out before starting to cry like a baby, he thought ruefully as he offered the program what he knew must be a pitiful excuse for a smile. Catching himself the best he could, he continued, "She…she was in a car accident. And, and I didn't even get to say goodbye, man!" _

_When he looked up from the ground, he saw that Ram was clearly speechless. He was staring at him with wide, pain filled eyes—he clearly never thought Users could die, he thought dryly—and, when he finally spoke, his voice was ragged: "Flynn…I'm so sorry. If there's anything I can do…" _

_He didn't know why he did it, but he didn't respond to Ram's offer; instead, he continued his previous chain of thought, acting as if the program hadn't spoken at all. "I got to the hospital…and it was too late. She didn't even…wake up before…And…there was nothing I could do!" No longer trying to hold back his sobs, he kept going, "There was nothing I could do, man! I…I couldn't save her…I didn't even get to say goodbye. The world's…too…cruel, too…imperfect. This…never should have happened…It's not fair, man!" _

"_Flynn…" Ram's voice trailed off. The look in his eyes seemed oddly familiar—the pain, the sadness—but he couldn't place where he had seen it before and didn't care to. Not now. Not after what had happened to Jordan. Not after having his life practically destroyed. Sighing, the little program said hesitantly, "I'm really sorry. I…I know what it's like, and…"_

_Even though deep down inside, he knew Ram, in a way, did know what it was like, even though he knew it was just an innocent comment from an individual who couldn't really understand death, something inside of him snapped. Maybe he just wanted to take his anger out on someone, maybe Ram was just a convenient target. He didn't know, and he didn't even stop to consider it before lashing out. "And what the hell would you know about it? Fuck, man! Jordan…died! She's never coming back! So what the fuck would you know about any of this!" _

_Blinking—a wounded expression on his face—Ram fumbled through a timid apology: "Flynn, I-I…I'm sorry…You're…right, I don't get…it." _

_Once again, he ignored the little actuary, this time to keep yelling at him. "You're just a program, man! So don't act like you understand anything, alright? Just…leave me alone." _

"_Flynn," stubborn as always—he would have laughed in any other set of circumstances—Ram tried again, his voice wavering horribly. _

_He didn't let him get any farther than his name; "Get out!" he yelled, not at all concerned about hurting the little program because he himself was hurt. Part of him wanted to make Ram pay for acting like he understood his pain…understood his loss…_

_After Ram slipped out—not before whispering again that he was really sorry—he sat in the silence and cried just as hard as he did that terrible day… _

_II_

_He found Ram sitting outside on the ground, idly spinning his identity disc, staring blankly out into the distance at something he could tell wasn't there. Sighing deeply, he walked over to the little program and sat down beside him; he doesn't even know I'm here, he thought, trying to calculate what was wrong to no avail. "Hey, Ram, what's up?" he asked, breaking the weighty silence. _

_Ram flinched at the sound of his voice, but quickly seemed to regain his composure. "You should probably go talk to Flynn," he said simply without even turning to look at him; he was clearly trying to mask his pain behind apparent indifference, but he knew him well enough to tell he was hurting._

"_What happened?" he probed, not about to let the actuary get away with sending him to Flynn for answers. _

"_What I meant," Ram muttered sadly—clearly trying to dodge the question by giving him something to do, "is that Flynn needs…someone to talk to." _

"_What happened?" _

_Finally turning to face him, Ram sighed, no longer trying to his pain, "Flynn's…wife de-died. So you should probably go talk to him 'cause…you'd understand better than me." _

_With a pang, he thought of Yori. It wasn't too long ago he lost his beloved partner because neither he nor Flynn had thought that she would need an upgrade to come onto the Grid…she had crashed almost instantly and was gone before he really knew what happened. _

_Ram's dejected voice tore him from his thoughts: "User, why do I always say the wrong thing?"_

"_I'm fine," he replied quickly, well aware that this wasn't only about him, that something had happened between him and Flynn. "And…I'm sure you were just trying to help Flynn."_

"_Apparently deresolution isn't like 'death,'" Ram stated wryly. He had gone back to staring out into the distance and what he had just said probably wasn't even meant for him. "But…" _

_And then it hit him, and he knew exactly what was wrong with his old friend. Flynn must have told him that he didn't understand that his wife—what was the word?—died, didn't understand his pain, he thought. And that must have made him think that the fact he de-rezzed…didn't really matter. Offering Ram a weak smile, he asked, for the actuary's benefit and his own, "What was it like?" _

_Ram started at the question—he knew from experience that he never wanted to talk about his deresolution—but then answered slowly, "It was…painful. I knew what was happening long before Flynn did, I guess. That was the worst part, really. The waiting. Not the pain. It probably wouldn't…be as bad if it happened fast, ya know?" Pausing, he finally turned to face him with sorrow filled eyes. "At the end, I didn't really feel anything but the pain…and then, it was over. Everything…faded away. It all went black…kinda like being powered down but not…" _

_Nodding—if Yori had to de-rezz, at least it wasn't drawn out like poor Ram's was, at least she wasn't in pain for too long, he told himself—he tried to offer the actuary a smile but it wouldn't come. He didn't trust himself to speak, to tell Ram that he understood when all he understood was loss and not deresolution itself, so he didn't._

_They sat in silence for a few micros before the little actuary finally pushed himself to his feet. A weak smile on his face, he just said softly, "Thanks for listening, Tron. You should probably go help Flynn out now. He…needs it." _

_As soon as Ram was gone—he took the light runner and ran, clearly trying to escape something he still didn't understand—he got up and made his way into the compound. Letting himself into Flynn's office without knocking, he found the User slumped over his desk, shredded blue prints all over the floor. "Flynn, are you alright?" _

"_Do I look alright, man?" Flynn snapped, looking up at him with red eyes. _

"_I heard about what happened," he replied steadily, trying his best not to let the User's anger keep him from trying to help, "and I'm really sorry…" _

_It almost seemed like all of the fight left him upon hearing those words because Flynn just stared at him brokenly. He didn't offer a quick retort, didn't yell at him about how he didn't understand. Knowing he had to help him—even if he didn't want it—he continued softly, his voice cracking horribly, "I know that…it's not the same for programs, but when I lost Yori…I didn't know what I was going to do. It felt like half of me was lost…forever." _

"_How did you…how were you able…" Flynn's voice trailed off; the broken expression on his face was enough to make him reconsider everything he had thought he knew about Users. They can get hurt…just like programs, he realized, the thought enough to make his CPU protest. _

_Still, now wasn't the time to think about that. Realizing what Flynn was asking him, he responded, trying to keep his voice from quivering, "Move on? You never…really do. I mean, most of the time, I feel alright. But, once in awhile, I see something that reminds me of her, and…it hurts. But…the thing is: I know she'd want me to keep living my life. So…I hold on to my memories of her, and I do the best I can in everything I do…because that's what she would want." _

_As soon as he was finished, the silence returned. It almost felt, to him at least, like Yori was present in the room in some sense…and he knew she would be proud of him. Finally, Flynn spoke, his voice stronger than before, "Thanks, Tron. That was…exactly what I needed to hear." _

_2009 _

I

"I don't care what Ram said!" Sam growled, pacing around the deck of the solar surfer. "We have to save Dad!"

Quorra watched him nervously, hoping he wasn't planning on doing anything too rash. Even though she didn't want to agree with Ram—who had given Sam Flynn's disc before the attack just in case anything bad happened—she had to admit he was right. As much as she cared about Flynn, she knew it was important to get Sam to the portal and out of here…where he could potentially erase Clu from the outside…

Wait, she thought, unable to fully process what was happening. If we erase Clu from the outside, and Flynn is still in here…he'll never survive the event. He'll…die.

Thinking back on all of the books Flynn had her read over the long, lonely cycles they spent together—not listening to a word Sam was saying anymore—she realized that Sam, and not the program (who had tried to kill Flynn for user's sake) was right. "Alright, you're right!" she exclaimed, ready and willing to fight for the User who had saved her life. "We'll find your dad, and then we'll get out and erase Clu."

Sam just smiled—clearly happy to once again have her on his side—and asked, "So…what do we do? I mean…do you know where…"

He didn't get to finish his thought, and Quorra didn't get to even think of an answer, not that she really knew what to do, not when she was fairly certain Clu would be holding Flynn somewhere in his command ship. Because out of the gray haze shot a light jet with…white circuitry. Ram? Quorra thought, amazed that the little program had survived a fight with Rinzler. He just won't go off line, will he?

As soon as he was overtop the solar surfer, Ram de-rezzed the light jet and landed easily on his feet on the deck. It was hard not to notice the haunted expression on his face—he almost looks like he's seen a (what's it called) ghost, she thought worriedly. His eyes were wild, darting nervously in every direction and, when he finally spoke, his voice cracked even though his words were brave, "A'ight…time to get ya to the portal."

Clearly sensitivity wasn't one of Sam's strong points, because the User just snarled, ignoring that Ram was clearly shaken, "We're not going to the portal. We're going to save my dad. And if you don't want to help, that's fine. But don't try to stop us."

"Are you glitching?" Ram shot back, staring at the User in disbelief, a furious look on his face. "Ya can't just walk into Clu's command ship! Not if you want to live!"

"He's my dad," Sam argued, stalking over to where the little program stood to loom over him in what was, Quorra could tell, an attempt at intimidating him. "And you don't leave your family behind. We're on the same team! I can't just…" For a moment, Sam paused, studying Ram intently, before adding, "But you wouldn't understand that."

"You think I don't get it?" Ram growled, the haunted look in his eyes replaced with one of sheer anguish. "Ya don't know half of what I've been through, half of what I've done just to…fight…"

Before he could continue, Quorra interfered; she knew she had to because she could tell that Ram was shattering right in front of her. Taking him by the shoulders—she was surprised that he didn't resist, didn't offer some quip that he could take care of himself—she led him gently away from Sam before asking the question she knew had to be asked: "What happened back there?"

II

All of his fight had left him. Normally, Ram would have pushed Quorra away, muttering something along the lines of "just 'cause I'm an actuarial program doesn't mean I can't take care of myself," but he couldn't. He could still see the explosion, could see the End of Line blowing up…with his best friend still inside. He had known what Tron was planning when he left, knew he was going to drop a light grenade and take the Black Guard with him. And he had ran, abandoning him to…save himself. What kind of a program am I? he thought bitterly as he let Quorra wrap her arm around his shoulders, let her sit him down on the deck of the solar surfer.

Sighing deeply, he relented and rested his head on Quorra's shoulder. Why does she care about me? he had to wonder, watching a perplexed—his pride's got wounded, he almost chuckled—out of the corner of his eye. Why do I matter when a User needs help? "What happened to you?" Quorra's voice tore Ram from his thoughts, and he was actually fairly shocked by the question, by the fact she even thought to ask. Because he could tell she was asking a general question…not just about what had just happened. She really…cares about me, he thought, allowing himself to hope for only a moment before allowing his distrusting side to take hold of him once more. Or else…she just wants something like everyone else…

"You have no idea," he replied weakly, well aware there was no turning back now…


	21. Chapter 20

_Wow...thank you all so much for the reviews! I really appreciate it! Anyway, enjoy the latest installment! ~Moore12~ _

**Twenty **

_1989_

_I_

_Defying his User—his creator—was easier than he had thought it would be. Calling in the Black Guard, striking a program he had once called a friend down, taking control of the system…was too easy. But, somehow he had still managed to fail. Stalking a ragged circle around Tron's still form—the damage, he knew, wasn't quite enough to de-rezz him—he scolded himself for being so stupid, for allowing the User to escape. Now he won't have to explain his actions, he thought bitterly, stopping only to kick Tron—pitiful User loving program, he almost growled— in frustration. Now I won't be able to secure full control of the system…_

_He wasn't entirely certain what he should do—no, he was an admin, made to create…not calculate odds and percentages of future…outcomes. And that was when it hit him. If there was one program that could easily be forced to help him and would be able to calculate what he should do, it was that worthless actuary. Turning to the nearest guard, he growled, "Bring me that glitching actuary." When the guard didn't move—a slightly perplexed look on his face—he added forcefully, "Now!" _

_Micros later, two guards emerged dragging a struggling Ram in tow. In a way, he had to admire the little program's pluck—trying to pick a fight with two programs much bigger than him in this environment wasn't exactly smart—but it mostly just irritated him. _

_He almost laughed at the expression on Ram's face when he saw Tron—all of the fight seemed to leave him instantly, and he just stared at him with a broken expression on his face. "You glitchin' viral!" he yelled, snapping out of his trance. "Go…frag…What did ya do?" _

"_The system is in my control now," he stated, a smug smile creeping onto his face, as he walked over to where the guards were holding Ram. "It would be in your best interest if you help…" _

"_Help you?" Ram cut him off, his eyes wild with rage. "Help you? Do ya really think I'm gonna do that? Go frag yourself!" _

_The little program struggled—clearly trying to attack him for everything he had done—but the guards held him fast. It was amusing to him; really, why does he bother when escape is futile and I'll have de-rezzed on the spot if he tries to fight, he had to wonder, suppressing a chuckle. He always was glitching that one, never really knew his place…and it's time for me to put him back in it._

"_Look, Ram," he said nonchalantly as he walked back over to where Tron lay helpless on the ground and impulsively pressed a booted foot to the back of his neck, "it wouldn't be wise to forget what I'm capable of, remember?"_

"_Go frag yourself."_

"_That's not what I wanted to hear," he growled—he really doesn't understand, does he? he wondered, beginning to grow very irritated with the actuary's antics—and pressed down harder until he felt a dull pulsating…_

_Ram seemed to notice what was happening because he finally relented, a defeated smirk on his face. "What do ya want from me?" he asked bitterly, seemingly well aware that he had (once again, stupid viral) lost. "I mean, seriously, did ya forget I'm a 'worthless' actuary or something?" _

_There was no need to finish Tron off…not when he had bigger plans for that naïve glitch. Removing his foot from the back of his neck, he stalked back over to where Ram stood, hand hanging, so that he could loom over him…intimidate the little program and show him exactly place he held in the new system. "You were tasked with determining the odds of future outcomes. That's what I need from you. And…I have a sneaking suspicion you may know where a certain User might be hiding…" _

_II_

_The only sound he could hear was his heart hammering in his chest. The reality he wasn't safe in his own creation was enough to almost crush his spirit entirely. I created Clu in my own image, and he betrayed me, he thought bitterly. What was I thinking? What went so wrong? _

_Still, he had to keep fighting. He couldn't let this happen, couldn't just stand by idly and let Clu destroy his gift to the entire world, destroy his entire creation. And…most of all…he had to get home. He had to get to the portal, had to get out of this nightmare—maybe I'll wake up and find out this was all one big nightmare, he thought dryly—had to find a solution, preferably from the outside. One keystroke and Clu is gone forever, he told himself. But first I have to warn the ISOs. _

_To think he had promised Sam he would bring him here; now, hiding in a crevice in the Outlands, it seemed so stupid, so hopelessly naïve. Why didn't I just listen to Ram? he wondered even though he already knew the answer to that question. Flynn, you moron, all of this could have been avoided…We'd still be jamming…The world would soon be a better place. _

_Making himself get to his feet—if only he could get close enough to Clu to destroy that bastard himself—he checked for danger quickly. With that, he left the crevice and his thoughts behind, running faster than he ever had before, hoping that, for once, he wasn't too late… _

_III_

_Something was very, very wrong. She had heard tales from the old Encom system—Flynn's exploits there were legendary and discussed fairly often—and she knew what red circuitry meant. But, seeing it here didn't make any sense. Slipping into an alley so they wouldn't notice her, she tried to figure out what could possibly be going on. It has to be a coup…but Flynn has always been good to us, she thought. So why would anybody want to overthrow him? _

_Wanting answers—and also well aware that she had to stay off the streets—she slipped out of the alley and practically sprinted across the street to the End of Line Club. Zuse will have answers, she thought, hoping her suspicions were wrong, that Clu wasn't trying to secure leadership through violence because, well, there was always something a little off about that program. If it is him…we're in trouble. _

_The End of Line Club wasn't open—it didn't open until later—but she figured Zuse would want to hear what was happening and would let her in because of it. When she got to the top, she yelled for Zuse to let her in, which he did, grumbling under his breath. "Quorra, my dear, you do realize we're closed," he sighed exasperatedly. "But what can I do for you?" _

"_Something is happening," she replied, trying to remain as calm as possible. "I think…Clu has overthrown Flynn."_

_Was it just her, or did Zuse not seem surprised by the development? What does he know that I don't know? she wondered, beginning to feel uneasy. And whose side is he on? To her relief, Zuse asked worriedly, his eyes flooded with real concern, "Really? But that can't be…How do you know?" _

_And that was when a terrified scream came from outside, and she knew the real trouble had begun… _

_IV_

"_He's coming home." His words were meant to be a statement of fact, but came out more as a question. Because, even though he wanted more than anything to believe his dad was coming home, he didn't really know. And he couldn't know until his dad pulled up on the Ducati, bringing him more stories from the Grid._

_Staring out the window, he wanted more than anything for his dad to come home. It had been two days now…and there was no sign of him. He didn't want to worry—it had only been two days after all…it wasn't that big of a deal really—but he couldn't get past the feeling that something was wrong. _

_And he didn't have any idea what he would do if his dad didn't come home, just like his mom hadn't those long years ago. He was too young to really remember, but he knew loss and understood it. It was a feeling he never wanted to feel again…_

_So he waited by the window, hoping he was wrong to feel so nervous… _

_2009 _

I

"I can't believe it," Sam said simply, glancing down at Ram who, on Quorra's request, had curled up and powered down after quickly mumbling through his account of what had happened to him the last 20 years. "I just can't believe Dad could be so…cruel."

Quorra couldn't fully believe it either even though part of her knew Ram didn't really have any reason to lie to them. It was true: he had fought in the games for 20 years; he was tortured into killing ISOs; he found out Rinzler was actually Tron only to have him nearly de-rezz him…and then had to watch Tron de-rezz back in the club after finally helping him remember. And—worst of all, she knew—he had known about Clu long before anyone else and Flynn hadn't listened to him, had instead accused him of being jealous and pathetic. In a way, after hearing the shortened story of his painful life, it made sense that Ram had sincerely thought about killing Flynn. What didn't make any sense anymore? That he insisted on throwing himself in danger for them.

Sighing deeply—and, on an impulse, she reached down to run her fingers through the little program's hair—she responded, "Sam, I'm sure there was a reason why he did what he did. It's like Ram said, Clu was his program; he just couldn't believe he wasn't on his side."

Despite her own words, Quorra wasn't sure if there was any way to justify Flynn's actions. It was ironic, really, that he was the one to teach her the art of being selfless when he apparently has always been so selfish, when he couldn't even take the time to hear out a program he considered a friend. While she knew Ram was just a basic—being an ISO, she knew that they were rather limited…as Flynn always said—there was something about him that was different…

Wanting to change the subject—mainly to keep Sam from going down a dangerous road, she told herself—she asked, "So, what do we do now?"

"We have to save my dad," Sam answered firmly, a resolved look in his eyes. And then, he added weakly, "Do you have any bright ideas?"

Quorra was about to answer that question when she saw one of Clu's carriers emerging from the fog—User, we're going to end up inside there, she thought bitterly—and, as if alerted to the problem by her silence, Sam turned around to look at what she was staring at.

"Oh great," he muttered cynically. "What the fuck is with this place?"

II

When he awoke, the first thing he wondered was how it was possible. Almost immediately, his CPU, throbbing with severe pain, called up the memories of the previous events. He remembered grabbing one of the Black Guard's light jet batons after arming the light grenade behind his back…remembered shooting out of the window just as it exploded, de-rezzing all of the clueless programs instantly and damaging his light jet in the process because he had been too close. He remembered falling—the light jet spiraling out of control—remembered accepting that he was about to meet his end. He remembered everything going black…

So how in the name of the Users am I still here? he wondered, pushing himself into a sitting position even though it caused his processors to protest, caused his circuits to flare with pain. His vision was slightly fogged, but he managed to look around. He was in a room he didn't recognize, a room that was simply decorated. It was where a program lived, he knew, and he tried to compute what was happening because none of it made any sense; every calculation he made was met with that irritating error message he knew all too well.

At least I know who I am, he thought wryly as he shakily got to his feet; he wasn't accustomed to feeling this…vulnerable, this…weak. And…I have to get out of here now.

"You shouldn't do that."

Ok, I must have been de-rezzed because now I'm hearing things, he thought in wonder.

And that was when the siren entered his field of vision, and he figured he was, once again, in deep trouble…

III

What is taking Rinzler so long? Clu wondered as he paced angrily around the room. He should have been back by now. I mean, it shouldn't be difficult to bring me that glitching User and Flynn's disc, should it?

Growling with frustration, he determined it would be best for his sanity not to worry about Rinzler anymore—after all, he does know what he's doing because I programmed him, he told himself. No, he wouldn't worry about the what-ifs, not when he had far better things to think about. Namely, how it would be best to bring perfection to the User world. Those naïve fools won't know what hit then, he told himself, trying to laugh but finding he couldn't. It won't be difficult to take over…not with the army I've made.

But what was wrong? He was so close to completing his objective, so agonizingly close to changing the world like his traitor User had always promised they would. Nothing's wrong, he thought, pushing his negative thoughts aside. Rinzler will return with Flynn's disc and I will finally escape this cell of a system…

Still, part of him didn't believe it…

IV

Ram awoke to someone frantically shaking him, and he had to suppress a small growl. But I just got to power down, he thought bitterly. What're you waking me up for? Blinking, he looked up and realized exactly why he had been woken up so soon.

Oh dear User, why can't I catch a break? he wondered as he offered Quorra a stiff nod before getting to his feet. He was about to start barking orders—because, well, someone had to and even though he was just an actuary he figured he was more than qualified—but Sam beat him to it: "This is probably where Clu is keeping Dad!"

Right…the kid wants to save his dad, Ram remembered, sighing heavily because he knew all too well this was a battle he couldn't possibly win. As he glanced over at the carrier—they were almost there and then, he knew, "the shit would hit the fan" (as Flynn always said)—he realized both Sam and Quorra were staring at him. "What?" he growled. "What'd ya want now?"

"You'll help us, won't you?" Quorra asked, actually smiling…at him (which couldn't be…)

CPU protesting—you think she actually cares about you? are you glitching? she just wants to use you like everyone else!—Ram muttered in response, knowing he couldn't possibly say no even if he really wanted to, "'Course I will…I just got one rule: I make the rules."


	22. Chapter 21

_Thanks again for all the reviews...here's the latest chapter. For Cyberbutterfly, I decided to include a scene about why Sam dropped out of Caltech so enjoy! Also, fyi, the book Quorra is reading is Thucydides' History of the Peloponnesian War. Anyway, I hope you enjoy all of the plot twists that abound in this chapter, setting ya'll up for the epic conclusion. Enjoy and R&R! ~Moore12~ _

**Twenty One **

_2002_

_I _

"_What the hell were you thinking?" _

_The last thing he wanted right now was to get in a debate with his "uncle" so he just shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know really. Probably wasn't." _

"_I'll say," Alan muttered, shaking his head ruefully, looking down at him like he was a kid who needed to be scolded—which he wasn't anymore, thank you very much. "How could you possibly throw all that away?" _

_Now that was a good question, he had to admit. How could he throw away the opportunity to attend Caltech, to follow his old man's footsteps and become the best computer programmer he could possibly be? Right, that's a good one, he thought bitterly. I want to be just like Dad. Because he was as confused as Alan, he lashed out bitterly, "I don't know, Alan, alright? I didn't like it there. They would've asked me to leave because of my drinking if it wasn't for my name. I don't want to be a programmer. Just pick one!" _

_To his surprise, his outburst didn't seem to faze Alan. Instead, he had that smug look on his face, like he understood completely what he couldn't understand at all. "Sam," he said steadily, "I don't think you should throw your whole life away just because you're mad at your dad…" _

"_Last time I checked, I was still the majority shareholder of a Fortune 500 company. I think I'll be okay." _

"_Sam, that's not what I meant." Alan answered his sarcastic—though very true, he almost chuckled—quip with more seriousness, just what he didn't want. "I know you well enough to know that you want to be your own person, and that means that…" _

_Getting up off the couch to get a beer from the fridge—he was underage, yes, but being worth billions had its perks—he cut Alan off again: "Look, I'm not really in to pep talks, if you know what I mean. So just give it up, man. You're not going to convince me to go back there." _

"_Alright, Sam, if that's your decision, I'll respect it," Alan replied simply, a sad half smile on his face. And then he added softly, "You're just like your old man, too damn stubborn for your own good." _

_He almost didn't respond to that but then his anger got the better of him. Because he knew it was true even though he didn't want to admit it. Everyone who met him always said the same thing—whether it was to his face or behind his back. Everyone always wanted to believe he was the same as his father for reasons he couldn't fully understand. What do they want from me? he thought miserably as he tried to determine which comeback in his arsenal would be best for this situation. Do they think I'm going to walk in and save Encom or something? And…finally…the best response came to him: "You're right: I am," he growled, letting all of his frustration and anger out. "We both walk away from what's important." _

_II _

_She set the book down, entirely confused by what she was reading. Before this book, she had come to the conclusion that people were generally good. Confucius basically said that people were entirely good—their emotional side and rational side were both directed towards leading a good life—and Aristotle said that, while their passionate side was irrational and could easily lead them astray, their reason was directed towards the good and they could learn to lead a virtuous life through practice. But…this book seemed to be saying the opposite: that all people's actions were geared towards benefitting themselves, that people were, by nature, selfish beings that always put their own self interest first. "Flynn," she asked, setting the book down, "why does Thucydides believe that people are so selfish?" _

_At first, Flynn didn't answer, leaving her to contemplate why he had her read this book when he was trying to teach her all about the art of the selfless. According to Thucydides, even selfless acts are by nature selfish, she mused, waiting for the response. So what does that mean for me? Finally, the answer came: "Well, Q, not all writers agree that people are good by nature. As you pointed out, Thucydides does have a rather pessimistic view of us…"_

_Even though she could tell Flynn was about to continue, she cut him off because, well, she understood everything Thucydides was saying except one part: "I get that. But…why does he even say that acts we consider selfless are often really selfish?" _

"_Always cut right to the chase, don't you?" Flynn replied warmly. "Well, what do you think he's saying?" _

"_Well…" she didn't really have to try to interpret what the writer was saying; no, what she couldn't determine was how she felt about his ideas. "I think what he's saying is that 'selfless' acts are selfish when a person does them for the wrong reasons. But…he seems to think all people do things for the wrong reasons, like how they'll be remembered or what they value. That's where…I disagree. I think selfless acts with the wrong intentions are selfish, but I don't think all selfless acts are. Like…I don't see how giving up your life for someone is selfish if you're doing it just to save that person. Does that…make sense?" _

"_That makes complete sense, Quorra," Flynn smiled. "It's the same as Aristotle claims: if a person isn't doing what's right just by virtue of itself, then they aren't exactly virtuous." _

_And that was when it hit her: there was far more to being selfless than just doing acts that just seemed selfless… _

_III _

_He kept to himself anymore. He watched mutely as new programs were shoved into cells and then dragged out for the games…never to return like he always managed to. He had been broken too many times to count and had managed to bounce back but…this time it was different. Even after he was forced to kill the ISOs he managed to come back from it after a dark period where he completely lost all faith in himself only because he wanted to rezz up Clu by staying strong, by helping to fuel resistance…it was his small way of helping out the programs…and the only way he could. _

_But now he didn't care. Brushing his fingers over his badly damaged face—wincing as they moved over the exposed pixels—he sighed heavily. What's the point? he wondered. I'm never gonna get out of here…and if I do anything other programs end up getting hurt. Or I end up getting my face smashed in. Either way…nothing good comes of anything I do. Just like Flynn said. _

_Even before he had been berated by the User for daring to suggest that Clu wasn't the good little program he thought he was—couldn't even listen to me when it mattered, he thought bitterly—Flynn never seemed to respect him as much as the others. And…he figured he deserved it. Clu and Tron did stuff that mattered, he thought sadly. Me? I just went around and tried to figure out what the programs wanted from Flynn, and then he didn't want to hear it there at the end…_

_Snickering ruefully, he had to admit that, in a way, it was all ironic. I'm just an actuarial program, he thought, a smirk creeping onto his face. And Flynn was right to treat me like one even though, at the same time, he expected so glitching much from me. But…still…it's my fault for acting like I was more than I was, acting like I mattered. _

_No, he knew now, living the reality of these games—who would've thought they'd be so much worse than the Game Grid? he almost laughed—that almost everything mattered more than him. He had lost everything—including himself somewhere along the way—and he recognized that everything was so much greater than him. And, if I ever get outta here, he promised himself once again, I'm gonna make the system what it was before… _

_2009 _

I

Well, this was as interesting as she had thought it would be. Gem was a lot of things—Zuse's confidant, an "average" siren working in the games, a program that had recently chosen a side for the first time—and knew more than most, but this situation still fascinated her. Because it honestly didn't make any sense that Rinzler—who clearly was Tron again based on his white circuitry and his actions at the club—would have been able to figure out who he was again. Zuse had explained to her that Clu had repurposed him and, as far as she knew, no programs ever were the same again after that. Reminding herself to play it cool, she walked over to where Rinzler—no, Tron…well, Tronzler sounds ok, I guess—sat, staring at her rather maliciously.

"What am I doing here?" he demanded angrily, and Gem was more than a little relieved that he was too weak to attack her.

"Drink this," she said simply in response, handing him a small vial of pure energy. "You're system should be running normally soon."

Glaring at her, Tronzler (yeah, the name fits him, she thought, smirking) did what he was told. As soon as he was finished, though, he growled, sounding very much like Rinzler, "Let me guess. You've already sent word to Clu that I'm here, and I'll be shipped back there as soon as I can walk."

"And why would I do that?" Gem asked innocently, smiling coyly at him.

"Stop playing games with me, Gem," Tronzler snarled, reaching over to grab her only to collapse pitifully onto the bed again. Despite his position, he continued, still raging, "What in the name of the Users am I doing here?"

Trying her best to look scandalized, Gem responded indignantly, "A simple thank you would be nice, considering how difficult it was to get you here and fixed up."

Tronzler blinked in mild confusion before asking the question she was convinced he would never ask. "Wait…you're trying to help me?"

"Of course I am," she answered, a genuine smile playing on her face. "I've had enough of Clu's games. It's time for a change of leadership…"

II

The plan was relatively simple—and gave the User and Quorra a decent chance of survival at 60%—but Ram was well aware that things could easily go wrong. As the solar sailer came to a stop in the middle of the rectifier, he calculated the odds again only to find they had fallen to 45%. Got to stop doing that, he thought wryly as he got off the solar sailer, motioning for Sam and Quorra to follow him.

The most important thing, he knew, was keeping Flynn's disc safe. That was why he had Quorra take it—somehow he knew that she would do a better job defending it than Sam, that he could trust her with it. "What is this place?" he heard Sam ask, his voice filled with shock.

For the first time, he really looked around. Wow, the rectifier really does live up to its name, doesn't it? he thought, staring through the window at all of the helpless programs that soon would be repurposed…into what he didn't really know because, well, Clu had deemed him a hopeless case. I got to help them…wait…I can't.

That was when he heard something. Quietly removing his identity disc from his back, he pressed a finger to his lips—that's how Users tell each other to be quiet right? oh well, hope they get it—and turned around to see a guard staring at them, seemingly stuck in standby because he wasn't doing anything. Seeing him seemed to wake him up because he opened his mouth to yell something, but Ram was too fast; he sliced through the glitching program with ease before he could get a word out. "Come on, let's go," he mouthed, beckoning for them to follow even though he wasn't entirely sure where they were going.

"You don't have a clue where you're going, do you?" Sam asked a little too loudly for comfort after he led them in a ragged circle just to keep them moving while he tried to calculate where to go.

"Working on it," he growled softly in response as he looked around again, trying to see if there was anything he had missed. Looking up, he realized there were walkways above them that had to lead to…well, somewhere. We don't got anywhere better to go, he thought when he found the nearest staircase. So let's go.

They had to go out into the open to reach the staircase, and that made him fairly nervous. User, I hope there aren't any properly functioning guards around, he thought, calculating the odds again only to found they had fallen to a poor 30%. User, stop being such an actuarial program…

Pointing at the staircase, he nodded to Quorra who, to his relief, went first, followed quickly by Sam. Slinking out behind them—relieved that there seemed to be nobody around—he froze when he heard the alarm go off, well aware it was all over.

III

"Well, Flynn, you should've known better," Clu grinned triumphantly even though his eyes were still glittering with malice. "You should've never trusted Ram."

What's Clu playing at now? Flynn wondered, well aware that wherever this was going, it couldn't be good. And, he felt more than a little helpless—Clu, being a reflection of himself, knew exactly what to do to keep him from escaping—because, after being removed from his cell, he had been unceremoniously tied to a table.

Before he could snap back a biting retort, Clu continued, spinning his identity disc idly, "I mean…he's a good actuary and all, but he's as weak as a program can be. It wasn't hard to break him, and, well, he's helped me a lot throughout this whole process…"

Clu paused, clearly wanting to let his word sink in, but Flynn couldn't really believe what he was saying. Because it just didn't make sense that Ram would ever help Clu, not after everything Clu had done to destroy the system he loved and his life as well. If I know Ram, he told himself, pushing all of the negative thoughts from his mind. He told Clu to go frag himself.

"It's a good thing you made it so he could contact Alan-One because that page he sent him worked better than I had calculated it would. And now…now he's led your son right back to me, just as I expected he would."

Flynn didn't want to believe him, but part of him was beginning to. Ram sent the page? he thought bitterly. And…he did try to kill me, didn't he? And now he's led Sam and probably Quorra here instead of taking them to the portal like he should have! Damn it…can't he do anything right?

But he stopped there because he knew assuming such things and believing Clu—who had so many reasons to lie to him and probably was just playing with his emotions—was stupid. I have no reason to trust Clu and every reason to trust Ram, he told himself, glaring defiantly up at the monster he had created. And now…I just have to hope he gets them out of here in one piece and to the portal.

"He tried to warn me, the fanatical fool. He said that—what was it he said?—that I would just make you angry. Like making you angry would do anything." Clu paused and walked over to where Flynn was lying to loom over him (he's not as intimidating as he thinks he is, he would have laughed in any other situation). "You're just as pathetic as he is, you know that? Afraid of your own creation! Afraid of perfection even though you claimed you wanted to find it! Well…none of that matters now. The time has come, and there's nothing you can do about it."

And, more than ever before, Flynn wanted to destroy him…


	23. Chapter 22

_Please read: Hi, all! Here's the latest installment. It's an especially important chapter, so make sure you're paying close attention. Also, I just wanted to tell you I am officially out of flashback ideas so...if you have any burning questions you wanted to ask or issues you wanted me to resolve, now is the time to bring them up. And...please review guys. You make me so happy when you do, and I was really hoping to top 45 reviews with this. So...anyway...R&R and enjoy! Because this chapter took so long to get up, it's especially good :) ~Moore12~ _

**Twenty Two **

_1985_

"_Why'd ya think Flynn hasn't come back?" Ram asked hesitantly without even looking up from his glass of pure energy. _

_Taking another slug of his own drink—he was honestly hoping his old friend wouldn't ask that question because he couldn't answer it—he replied, "I don't know, bud, alright? He's a User so he has other things he has to worry about. He'll come back when he comes back. Don't…worry about it."_

_The words felt hollow to him and clearly didn't make Ram feel any better because he just sighed heavily before taking a sip of his own drink. It almost felt, to him at least, that his question was still hanging in the air, sucking the joy out of everything they did. He hasn't come back since he told us his wife died, he thought, trying his best to calculate what was wrong. So…It still doesn't make any sense. That was when Ram said quietly, his voice cracking slightly, "He's not comin' back, is he?" _

_But that couldn't be…Just the thought that Flynn would just decide to walk away from his own creation one day was enough to make the error messages start popping up. He wouldn't just walk away without warning one day, he reassured himself. He couldn't do that…and he hasn't done that. He probably just needs—what is it that he always says?—a little alone time. I know I needed it after Yori… "Ram, he'll come back when he's ready. He's got a lot on his mind right now, and I don't think being here is the best thing for him right now…"_

"…_because seeing you only makes it worse." _

_After nastily finishing his sentence for him, Clu sat down at the bar next to Ram and wrapped his arm around the smaller program's shoulders. "But don't worry, Ramster," he said coolly, sounding way too much like Flynn for his comfort, "He'll come back…eventually." _

"_Clu," he cut in warningly, looking over Ram's head to glare at Flynn's program, "now isn't the time for this. We'll all talk when we get back…" _

_But it was too late to stop this; he saw the dangerous twist to Clu's smile. "Come on, Tron," he protested indignantly, slapping Ram's shoulder repeatedly while he did so, "It's not like it's really Ram's fault…per say. He can't help it that he was…rewritten." _

_Glancing from Clu back to Ram, he was relieved to see his old friend didn't look too fazed by anything Clu was saying even though, admittedly, he was. As he pulled away from Clu—a sneer forming on his face—Ram growled, "What in the name of the Users does me being rewritten have to do with any of this? Are ya glitchin' again? Got a virus?" _

"_I dunno, man, you tell me," Clu replied steadily, and it was clear to him he wasn't joking around anymore. "From what I overheard, you really upset Flynn…"_

"_Clu…" he growled, starting to get up from his seat because he figured he would end up having to pull them apart before someone got hurt soon enough. Flynn did a great job leaving us in charge, he thought miserably. We can't even coexist… _

"_What! You think this is my fault!" Ram snapped with an edge in his voice that had been reserved for Sark and his cronies back in the old system. "I just said I knew what it was like!" _

_He could only watch as Clu's eyes filled with understanding…and with anger. Looking around, he noticed that many of the programs in the club were staring at them, and he said softly, "Come on, guys, let's…" _

_Clearly Clu was way too focused on Ram to notice him (or any of the other programs for that matter) because he just yelled, his eyes growing colder by the micro, "That's what the problem is! You don't understand. And now you probably have Flynn thinking—if I know how his mind works, which I do—that he should've been able to save his counterpart like he saved you. Calculate the odds that happened, you glitching actuary!" _

"_You don't have to be an actuary to calculate those odds," Ram snickered even as his eyes betrayed how upset he really was. "There's a 0 fragin' percent chance you're right." _

_Picking up on how unconvinced Ram sounded, Clu went on the offensive again: "Who could blame Flynn really? Seeing you—alive and well, all because of him—must be painful, especially when he couldn't save a User who mattered more to him than you ever will. If you ask me, you're the only reason why he hasn't come back yet when our world is far better than where he comes from." _

"_Well…nobody asked you!" Ram snarled through gritted teeth as he lunged at Clu, sending both of their stools clattering to the ground in the process. _

_When he finally managed to pull Ram off Flynn's program—which took longer than expected because Ram actually struggled, clearly not wanting to let go of Clu's neck—he pushed him roughly against the bar. "Stay there!" he yelled, furious at both of them for making such a scene (it was hard, at least for him, not to notice that almost every program in the club was staring at them)._

_With that, he offered Clu a hand to stand up—not because he really wanted to (Clu arguably was asking for it, and he'd make sure to tell that to Ram when he talked to him about this)—he snarled, "And, you, go home." When he was met with casual indifference and a smug smile, he added forcefully, "Now!" _

_Before he left, Clu took one last parting shot: "He should've never brought you back! It would've saved us all so much aggravation!" _

_As soon as the elevator doors shut behind Clu—the club had grown eerily quiet, and it was hard for him to ignore all of the amazed stares raining down on them—Zuse emerged from behind the bar. "Nothing to see here, folks…" When that did nothing to return the club to its party atmosphere, he exclaimed, "Oh, what the heck: free drinks for everybody!" _

_Shooting the barkeep a grateful look as the cheer went up he grabbed the suddenly unresponsive Ram by the shoulders and led him out of the club without incident. After an awkward elevator ride that felt longer than normal, he was about to lead Ram to the light runner—I didn't have too much to drink, so I'll just drive, he thought—but the little program stopped dead, a flicker of defiance in his unusually pain filled eyes. "I'm not going back there," he said quietly. _

"_User, Ram, Clu was just trying to rezz you up—which he did a pretty good job of, by the way." He didn't mean to raise his voice, but he did anyway; he just couldn't believe what he was hearing and was still fairly angry at both of them for fighting in public. "What he said can't possibly be true!" _

_Sighing heavily, Ram replied, his voice betraying his sadness, "Tron, he's probably right. Flynn…well…I was de-rezzed. Gone. And…he brought me back. But he can't bring back his…" _

"_You're going to believe Clu? Ram, you know you can't listen to anything he says. He just doesn't like you because he didn't think we needed another admin, alright? So, he takes every opportunity he can to rezz you up, to make you look like you're glitching in front of other programs. This isn't about Flynn. It's only about Clu." _

"_Clu's Flynn's own program," Ram muttered sorely when he finished his speech, clearly not understanding what he had been trying to say. "He knows him better than ya do." _

_Maybe that was true. He didn't know, and he certainly couldn't calculate where Ram was coming up with all of these ideas. Catching himself wondering about the User world again—programs aren't meant to know everything about them, that's just how it is—he sighed. "Come on, bud, are we even talking about the same program anymore? Clu just thinks he knows more than us because Flynn wrote him, but, seriously, what does he know? Did he survive on the Game Grid for all those cycles? Did he help Flynn take down the MCP?" _

_That earned him a small, though hesitant, smile from Ram. So, he decided to continue even though part of him knew he shouldn't. "Clu doesn't know anything! He just likes to think he's better than us, and being Flynn's program just fuels his ego. And he doesn't like you because, in a sense, you're Flynn's program too because he…" he stopped when he realized he was about to remind Ram of what Clu had attacked him over in the first place. _

_He could only watch helplessly as Ram's eyes darkened again. Sighing again, he forced a smile and said unconvincingly, "Yeah, you're right. And, besides, he'll come back…right?" _

"_Of course he will," he replied forcefully because…if it was one thing he was certain of anymore, it was that. _

_2009 _

There was nowhere to run. They'd have to stand and fight, and he was more than willing to. If this was going to be his last stand—which he calculated there was a 95% chance it would be—he would go out with a bang. Unhooking his borrowed identity disc from his back and rezzing his black tinted face shield, Ram gave Sam and Quorra—who also were preparing themselves for the fight as the guards closed in around them—a nod. First chance they get, they better get outta here like I told them to, he thought as he quickly calculated what the best plan of attack would be. Alright…let's go.

Without giving any warning—the guards probably thought we'd go quietly, like that would happen, he thought dryly—Ram attacked the nearest guard, slashing at him with his identity disc. The guard blocked each of his blows but then, when he saw another guard about to attack him, he deftly spun, kicking the attacking guard's legs out from under him and sending him tumbling into the other guard. While they were disoriented, he quickly cut through them both before turning to face down the next guard.

User, there's too many of them, he thought, beginning to grow frantic even as he de-rezzed the guard after knocking his identity disc from his hand. In a relative moment of calm, he glanced over to check on Sam and Quorra. Quorra was more than holding her own—he had to admit, he was impressed by what he saw, especially when she managed grab one guard by the arm and throw him to the ground with ease. Sam was doing alright…maybe they would make it out alive after all…

Seeing a disc flying towards him tore him instantly from his thoughts, and he easily blocked it, deflecting it right into an enemy guard. That'll teach you to throw a disc in close combat, he almost laughed in spite of himself. User, they don't make programs like they used to…

But then, the tide of the battle turned. It was becoming harder to fight off the guards, they just coming and it was growing harder for his functions to initiate his commands. User…I need a recharge, he thought miserably as he bravely turned to face down two more guards. How many of these virals are there, anyway?

Still, he had a few tricks he had picked up from the countless battles he had fought in his life—back in the old system, you had to fight most of the time without getting to recharge, he reminded himself—and he figured it was time to use them; if he wanted to make sure the User and Quorra lived to see another cycle, he had to try. Even if it saw him de-rezzed…Taking a few steps away to remain out of range, he saw there were only seven guards left standing…I can take them, he thought…Aw, who are you trying to fool, Ram? You've got a 0% chance of walking outta here alive.

"Go!" he managed to choke out, hoping they would understand what he was telling them to do, hoping they would remember his one rule. If I can distract them all, they can get out of here…get to Flynn, he told himself, trying to force his smirk, well aware what would happen to him in only a few micros.

Quorra, who was fighting nearby, clearly heard him because she defiantly yelled "no" as she de-rezzed another guard. But he wasn't about to listen to her, wasn't about to let her sacrifice herself for what? For him? I can't let them get hurt, he thought, the sadness being replaced completely with resolve. And then…he was finally ready. Holding up his disc, a defiant smirk forming on his face, he shouted, "Hey, ya glitchin' virals! I got the disc!"

Almost immediately all eyes were on him—even Sam and Quorra, who looked stunned that he had given himself up so easily, were staring at him instead of running like they should be. So, still smirking, he continued, preparing himself to run like he had never ran before, "And…if ya want it…ya have to come an' get it!"

As he ran, glancing over his shoulder to see that he had tricked four of the guards into following him (Quorra will make quick work of those other two, he told himself), he decided not to think about what was happening. There were so many better things to think about while he still had time…Smiling to himself, even though part of him remained aware the guards were gaining on him, it was almost like he was back in his original system…before the MCP came and changed his life forever…just a regular actuarial program, helping Users plan for their future needs…living without drama, without fighting…

But then again…so, so many cycles had passed since those days, and he couldn't really remember what that life was like. Most of what he remembered was fighting…so why wasn't he fighting now? Smirking—based on the footsteps hammering in his ears, the guards were almost there—he swerved, identity disc at the ready, only to be met by one of the guard's fits because he had misjudged the distance between them.

Stumbling backward and dropping the disc, he still managed to stay on his feet. CPU pounding, he tried frantically to collect himself only to be punched again right in the face, this time even harder…User, I wish I had been designed to be able to take a few hits, he thought, chuckling silently to himself even though he was well aware he was staring deresolution right in the face. His vision foggy, his processors whirring in pain, he was somehow able to kick out the guard's legs, sending him crashing to the floor; his small triumph was short lived because he saw a fist coming right at his face.

His prompts screamed for him to move, to do something—anything—to escape, but he couldn't: his functions just wouldn't initiate their commands. And, when the fist struck him, rattling him to his very core, he slumped to the ground, the world slowly fading into welcomed blackness…


	24. Chapter 23

_Please read: Sorry it's been so long (crazy week at work lol). Anyway... I hope you enjoy this latest installment. Like I said in the intro to the last chapter, if you have any questions you want me to resolve now is the time. The fanfic is nearing its conclusion after all. And pretty please review. I love hearing what you think; it really does make me happy. So enjoy! ~Moore12~_

**Twenty Three **

_1985_

_I_

_User, it was good to be back. Sitting at the table—catching up with Tron because he wasn't busy and Flynn wasn't around—he couldn't help but feel so happy. Back in the Game Grid, he had managed to find some happiness in rezzing up Sark and the guards but it was hard to maintain. And he had to admit the only way he could cope with what had happened was to joke about it. _

_At that moment, the conversation had turned to what Tron jokingly referred to as "the good ol' days." "Ya know, bud," he laughed, a secretive smile creeping across his face, "I've heard Flynn's thinking about making a game arena or something along those lines. Not, of course, to have programs de-rezzed but…to allow them to compete against each other." _

"_Really?" he smirked in response, well aware where this was going. "I'll have to check that out. I dunno, man, life's…well…not as exciting without a little action. Ya know what I mean?" _

"_Of course I do. What's fighting for the Users without a little fighting?" _

"_Exactly, man! User, I just got restored and I haven't even seen any action! What's up with this system? It's just…too perfect." _

"_Yeah, I'm not going to admit I know about that," Tron replied quickly, a warning look in his eyes that he had seen many times back in the Game Grid. _

_Yawning mainly to give him a ruse to see what Tron was so concerned about, he titled his head back and saw that Clu had entered the room…and he didn't look too happy at all. You wouldn't even know he was Flynn's program if he didn't look so much like him, he thought, forcing the most genuine smile he could muster. "Hi, Clu." _

_He wasn't really surprised when Clu didn't acknowledge him, instead turning to Tron. "The system isn't going to monitor itself while you sit around and gossip," he growled in a tone that was so unlike Flynn's it made him wince. And then he added for him, he knew, "And find something for your little friend to do that he won't mess up, alright?" _

"_Come on, Clu," Tron said softly, clearly trying to placate the younger program, "you haven't even tried to get to know Ram. You could probably learn a lot from him…" _

_He wanted to get along with Clu because, well, if he was going to have to live with the program it would be far better if he was a friend and not an enemy. So, he added to what Tron was saying, a hopeful smile on his face, "Yeah, man, I didn't survive in the Game Grid 'cause I got lucky. I know a whole lot 'bout…"_

_Before he could continue, Clu cut him off indignantly, a sneer on his face that almost made him flinch but didn't because he had seen worse from Sark and had expected it: "Are you glitching, Tron? You really expect me to learn from him? What's he going to teach me—how to figure out how long some random User is going to live? I'm an administrator for crying out loud, man!"_

_Sighing heavily—why do programs always look down on me? he wondered, only slightly bitter because he already knew the answer to that question—he broke in, smirking up at Clu, "Well, how 'bout this? You and me at the sparing ring after you're done with whatever important task you're working on. I've fought military programs, but never an admin, so I gotta see what it's like, ya know?" _

_Clu howled, shaking his head as he did, "Why in the name of the Users did Flynn decide to rewrite you?" But after a particularly long micro of awkward silence, he broke just as he had calculated he would: "You're on, man! And don't think I'm going to take it easy on you just because you're an actuarial program." _

"_Wouldn't expect you to," he just smiled, already sizing his future opponent up. I can take him, he thought as soon as he calculated the odds to be an exceptional 90%. And when I do, he'll finally be able to compute that I'm just as good as he is. _

_As soon as Clu was gone—running off to complete some task his User wanted done ASAP—Tron turned to him and sighed, "Ram, what's wrong with you? You need him to like you, or, at the very least, respect you." _

"_Don't worry about it, Tron," he replied steadily, holding back a smirk the best he could. "Like I said earlier, I need a little action."_

_II_

_The rules were simple, and he knew he wouldn't be wasting many precious micros while taking down that mouthy little actuary who didn't seem to know how low on the priority list he was. Who did he calculate he was anyway, challenging him to a fight? How could an actuarial program—and one that had been rewritten none the less—expect to beat him, a system administrator? He's glitching, he thought, holding back a laugh, as he gave his opponent a cursory glance that merely confirmed what he already knew. The little viral is glitching. _

"_Alright…" Tron's voice trailed off weakly; he clearly isn't confident that Ram can get the job done, he thought, his confidence soaring. "Let the match begin." _

_He didn't waste much time, opting to charge the smaller program and take him down by force. To his amazement, Ram blocked his first blow with ease. The smirk never leaving his face, he blocked each of his moves—even the one he thought was brilliant that would have taken off his head off—seemingly without putting out any effort. He's just toying with me, he realized with a pang as he took a step back to try to calculate a better strategy. But…no, it can't be. _

"_Had enough, Clu?" Ram asked innocently, spinning his disc idly, clearly waiting for him to make the next move. _

_Without giving the little actuary any warning, he went on the offensive yet again, slashing wildly at him with his disc. Once again, Ram artfully dodged or blocked each of his blows without even trying to attack him once. Furious—frag the rules! just frag them, he thought—he tried to grab the smaller program to throw him to the ground but missed when Ram ducked out of the way, stepping to the side, that damn smirk still on his face. _

"_Alright, Clu," Ram said so calmly it only fueled his rage, causing his prompts to fire commands to de-rezz him immediately. "Ya wanna play this game, so let's go…" _

_If he hadn't been the one fighting Ram—and if Ram wasn't, well, Ram—he was sure he would have appreciated his skill. As soon as he went on the offensive, he had him backpedaling; he just couldn't keep up with the little program that moved so quickly he was almost a blur. Each move he made was clearly calculated to throw him off balance but still keep him in the game because there were many times he could easily have pinned him and won but didn't. Still, the little program was relentless, and he was barely able to process what was happening. The next thing he knew Ram had knocked his disc from his hand and, in the same deft movement, kicked out his legs as he ducked to keep him from grabbing him to regain some kind of advantage after losing his disc._

_Lying on the floor, backed into a corner and completely helpless, he knew he had lost. To his surprise, Ram didn't pin him as was expected of the winner. Instead, he let out a low whistle and said dryly, his comment clearly directed at Tron, "He's got a lot to learn. What'd I tell ya?" _

"_Ram," Tron replied warningly, something he didn't appreciate at all, "you've proved your point."_

"_Getting beat by an actuarial program? Unbelievable," Ram just snickered as he walked away, once again idly spinning his disc, leaving him to wonder what in the name of the Users that little viral really was. _

_And, if he knew anything now, it was that he was far more than just an actuary…_

_2009 _

I

After de-rezzing the two guards who had stayed behind, Quorra was about to get Sam out of there while there was still time but something stopped her. She knew she was supposed to keep Flynn's disc safe, knew she was supposed to help Sam rescue Flynn himself. But she just couldn't bring herself to run away, to…abandon poor Ram who had so willingly sacrificed himself for them. Pausing only for a moment to consider the consequences of her actions, she turned in the direction that Ram had gone, luring four of the guards away from them, and ran, hoping it wasn't too late.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sam called after her, but she wasn't about to stop because, deep down inside, she knew this was right. She couldn't really explain why it was right, but she knew she wouldn't be able to live with herself knowing that her life continued only because Ram had thrown his away, putting himself in danger just to save her and Sam. At that moment, she didn't care she was carrying Flynn's disc, didn't care she arguably had more important things to worry about. All she cared about was saving Ram, and nothing else mattered anymore.

When she turned the corner, she saw a site that was enough to make her skid to a stop even though her mind screamed at her to get in there. Ram was lying sprawled out on the floor, circuits flickering weakly, and one of the guards had already scooped up the disc (which was Sam's, she knew). But they weren't de-rezzing him, and she suddenly had the unsettling thought that Clu had other plans for the feisty actuary. Her fears were confirmed when one of the guards roughly pulled the clearly unconscious program off the ground and slung him over his shoulder.

Quorra couldn't let this happen—nothing good was going to come of this, she knew all too well—but, before she could even attempt to stop them, Sam grabbed her, pushing her under cover to let them pass. "What are you doing?" she hissed as soon as they were gone, furious with Sam for not allowing her to help Ram.

"They could lead us to Clu and to Dad," Sam replied evenly. For a moment, she was convinced he was perfectly content to sacrifice Ram to save his father, but then she saw the sadness in his eyes. Finally, he added softly, "Look, I know it's not the best option. But…we have to take it."

Because it's our only option now, she thought bitterly even as she nodded in agreement. And…well…we can always de-rezz the guards before they actually get to where they're going so we can save Ram…and then Flynn.

Offering her a small, hopeful smile, Sam helped her to her feet, and together they ran to catch up with the guards.

II

"Do you want to be de-rezzed or something?" Gem asked evenly, looking him right in the eyes, not at all afraid of him—something that made him slightly irritated for reasons he understood all too well. "I already told you your system is still recovering, and it would be unwise…"

Cutting her off with a low growl that made her flinch, Tron snapped, "I can't just sit here and do nothing!"

"Well, it's your decision," the siren replied nonchalantly even though she was still gazing at him fiercely. "I'm just telling you how it is, and if you don't want to listen to reason, that's fine."

Tron wasn't about to listen—who did she calculate she was anyway? how dare she try to tell him how to live his life!—so he defiantly swung his legs to climb off the bed. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he was overcome by a strange sensation; his legs felt so weak, and it strained his processors just to remain standing, to defiantly smirk at Gem. Still, he wasn't about to let that faze him, so he gingerly took a step forward, only to have his legs give out from under him.

Growling that all too familiar growl in frustration, Tron managed to push himself into a sitting position but didn't even bother trying to stand. Glitching siren was right, he thought miserably, feeling more than a little helpless. I can't even stand up…

"You really should take the time to recover," Gem said softly after a long moment of silence, her voice betraying her true concern. "If you want to destroy Clu, you'll need to be able to stand."

"Fine," he snarled in response, not wanting to admit he was so very weak—and vulnerable—when he was so used to being the strong one everyone could rely…Who are you kidding, Tron? he thought bitterly, staring at the floor he couldn't even get up from, remembering Rinzler was still there, lurking inside him. You're the weakest program in this system. You let Clu break you.

"Just give it some time," Gem said, her voice strangely firm—almost as if she had regained her composure and truly wasn't afraid of him anymore. "You're system will be running at full capacity soon enough, and then you can go dispose of that glitching tyrant."

Just the thought he could exact his revenge on Clu was enough to make him believe he still had a purpose, that he could still be that program everyone relied on after all…

But how in the name of the Users could he take down Clu?

III

Processors whining, Ram's eyes fluttered open. For a micro, he didn't have any idea where he was; all he could tell was that he was hanging facing downwards…which wasn't helping his CPU recover that was for sure. User, I must've got run over by a light cycle, he thought dryly, still struggling to keep his eyes open. Or got shot by a tank again…Or…

When he managed to pry his eyes open and get his CPU running as well as possible, he realized he was moving. He could see the ground moving, and, with a pang of fear, he realized he was slung over the shoulder of a guard. Bet they took the disc too, he thought, wanting his CPU to just stop pounding more than anything. User…why's it always me?

Blinking—the pain was just incredible—he realized something he hadn't before and probably would have if he wasn't so rattled. He could reach the guard's disc. Snickering weakly to himself—you really are glitching, aren't you? he thought—he reached down and gingerly unhooked the disc.

Before the guard even really knew what was happening, Ram had managed to slice through one of his legs. As he stumbled forward—letting out a shocked yelp—Ram, who he had yet to let go of, finished the job, cutting through his head before nimbly landing on his feet. With the pixels that had made up the guard's disc running through his hand, he spun, trying to figure out which of the ones remaining had Sam's disc. He barely had time to think because one of the guards charged him, and, because he didn't have a disc to protect himself, he had to run and hope his admittedly stupid plan would work.

Sure enough his ruse worked; he could hear the quiet whirring of a disc shooting through the air towards him. Spinning instinctually, he sidestepped the disc and caught it with ease. And then—maybe it was because he wasn't able to think straight, let alone calculate the odds of such a move, he didn't really know what in the name of the Users was wrong with him—he called out mockingly, "Ya want what ya wittle friend got?"

Rezzing his face shield—because he had forgot because his CPU clearly was malfunctioning, it was official—Ram steeled himself because he knew this would be a more difficult fight than usual. I must be getting outdated or something, he thought bitterly as the guards turned and charged him. Can't even take a hit to the head, what kind of program am I? Oh…right…an actuary.

He was in the command ship, cornered and malfunctioning. His system was running slower than normal, his CPU was pounding, he couldn't calculate any odds. He was about to give up—let them bring him to Clu or to whatever fate they were planning, he just didn't care anymore—when Quorra came running out from behind the corner, her identity disc a deadly blur.

He had never been happier to have some help in his entire life, but any joy at seeing the ISO evaporated immediately when an all too familiar program with yellow circuitry emerged from a room down the hall, twirling his disc in his hand, wearing a smug smile on his face…


	25. Chapter 24

_Hey all! Here's the latest chapter, enjoy! Like last chapter, I took some of Cyberbutterfly's suggestions. So...there's a Sam scene! Also, make sure you're paying attention; it really is getting interesting! Enjoy and R&R! ~Moore12~ _

**Twenty Four **

_2007_

_I_

_The first time he went bungee jumping, he was afraid to look down. Standing on that bridge, he couldn't, at first, really believe what he was doing—it was almost like he had stepped out of his skin for a moment and someone else had taken control, leading him here for no apparent reason. Part of him instinctually wanted to back away while the other part screamed for him to jump, to take that leap of faith he needed to take so badly…_

_Needless to say, he had jumped then and it had been so exhilarating; he had felt alive for the first time in so long, for the first time he had started living in that old cargo container just because…well…he could. He wasn't a philosopher so he wasn't about to sit around and contemplate why being a daredevil made him feel so alive, but what he did know was what he needed to do now. _

_He was the majority shareholder of Encom, but nobody in the organization acted like he was, instead choosing to do whatever the hell they wanted to. He had to admit they were good at making money but…weren't they missing the point of what the company was supposed to stand for? And, besides, he needed something to do with himself and planning a stunt as big as this was just the thing he needed. _

_Walking along the street, just to get a general layout of the place so he could make a quick getaway and hopefully not get caught by any cops, he turned into a back alleyway that looked like an especially promising escape route. Well, this could work, he thought, glancing around to commit his surroundings to memory. Not perfect…but it may have to do especially…_

_A loud clattering noise tore him from his thoughts, and he looked up automatically, heart pounding in his throat. "What the hell!" he exclaimed as he turned in the direction of the noise, startled but not exactly scared. _

_What he saw made him laugh in spite of himself. A little dog—a Boston terrier to be exact—was pawing through a trashcan, the metal lid was nearby, still rattling. Walking over on an impulse to the dog, he said jokingly, "And here I thought you were going to mug me."_

_At the sound of his voice, the dog turned around and looked him over; he could have sworn he was sizing him up. "What's up, man?" he asked, well aware he was talking to a dog—and a stray none the less based on his lack of tags—and not caring at all. "Are you hungry?" _

_To his surprise, the dog barked in response. No, this isn't strange at all, he thought, staring at the dog in amazement. I'm talking to a dog…and I sort of think he's listening. But he brushed those thoughts away quickly, opting just to laugh and get the hell out of there before he did something stupid. _

_He was about to walk out of there without giving the dog a second thought when it started howling. And, for some crazy reason, he just knew he had to go back for it. I'll just take it to the pound or something, he told himself as he walked over, whistling for the dog to come to him. Might as well make it so he gets a home… _

_II_

"_Can I have a word with you, dear?" Clu asked far too sweetly and it was impossible not to notice the malicious glint in his dark eyes. "It will only take a micro or two…" _

_She knew better than to refuse him—even though she knew that what he had planned couldn't be good—so she nodded curtly and followed the administrator down the hallway. Doing her best to maintain an indifferent façade, she tried to determine what in the name of the Users Clu wanted from her. This better not be about Castor, she thought bitterly as they went down a flight of steps to, what she knew, was the underbelly of the stadium. I'm not even really in on anything he does after all…I just give him intel…_

_They paused only when Clu had to do an override to open a particularly menacing set of doors. As a siren, she knew all about the stadium but still…she had never been here, had never seen what lay beyond the doors that only Clu and a handful of other guards could open. There were many rumors, of course, of what was down there—some programs claimed that it was there he tortured ISOs before murdering them, others said it was probably where the conscripts who managed to live were housed. She assumed both, and she was beginning to look for a way out of the situation when Clu's voice tore her from her thoughts. "You know, I haven't been down here in a long time," he stated casually, as if talking about his favorite club. Whistling a low whistle, he continued, "But…there's something I need to show you." _

_The doors swung open then, and she had no choice but to force a smile and follow the admin through them. She had never been so nervous in her entire life—not back in the purges, not when Clu came to the End of Line and had Rinzler slaughter all the programs in the joint, not ever. But, because she knew it was important that she not make any missteps, she maintained that cool, calm indifference and followed obediently. _

_But it was hard to maintain that attitude when she realized where she was. It was fairly dark, and it took her a micro for her to adjust to the bad lighting, but she knew where she was immediately. While they walked down the center aisle, she took in all the small cells, most of which were, she could tell, empty. Finally, they stopped and Clu banged on the wall and called, "I need to speak with you." When no program emerged at the entrance, which was blocked off by a force field, Clu added roughly, "Now!" _

_She wasn't sure what was happening, but finally a little program she had heard so much came to the force field, his face shield on even though he wasn't fighting. So this is Rez, she thought, looking him over, hardly impressed by the newest "unofficial" champion. But…he looks so…familiar. _

"_What'd ya want, Clu?" the little program snarled, the defiance in his voice enough to put her on edge. As far as she knew, no program talked like that to or about Clu…to his face at least. "Ya gotta virus I need to help ya with?" _

_Clu didn't seem at all intimidated or upset by the little program's antics because he just ordered calmly, "De-rezz the face shield." _

_For a micro, she was convinced the conscript was going to ignore him and head back to the back of his cell. But then—letting out a small, annoyed huff—he de-rezzed the face shield as he had been commanded to, revealing…_

_She gasped—she couldn't help herself. The damage was just too much to look at. The program's right side of his face was essentially gone—the only thing left was damaged, scarred pixels. And, when she finally was able to look away from the damage, from the missing eye, from the atrocity it was, she realized the program was still smirking defiantly…and the smirk was so familiar. She had seen it before long ago but…it couldn't be. _

_But, sure enough, it was. Rez was Flic. And she knew as well as most programs in the system that had lived through the purges that Flic was, in fact, Ram. And, Ram, as if well aware she had finally realized who he was, had finally been able to look past his damaged coding to see him, just laughed. "Clu, you're glitching, you know that?" _

_She hardly noticed when Ram rezzed the face shield again, turning to go lay down again and wait for the slaughter as always. She hardly heard him say he was sorry for scaring her. Because, right before that happened, Clu had said in her ear, his voice too calm for comfort, "Now you know what happens to programs that defy me." _

_Something had to be done. This couldn't continue. But…if Clu knew what they were up to, what could they possibly do? _

_2009_

I

It was too good to be true. Clu honestly couldn't believe his luck—the User was naïve enough to think he could actually save his father, and Ram had allowed it. I'm glad I kept him around, he thought, holding back a smile, as he ordered in a new wave of guards to seize them. He's so glitching loyal to the Users, it's pathetic.

He didn't even have to lift a finger, and there was never any question what the outcome of this fight would be. Ram—who clearly was either damaged or malfunctioning in some way based on how easily he was taken out—was grabbed by two guards first, shoved to the ground roughly, his head banging against the wall. The User was next, and he put up more of a fight—de-rezzing a guard before one managed to knock his disc away, leaving him helpless, forcing him to surrender to the four guards surrounding him. He had to admit the female program—who he recognized from somewhere but figured he must be seeing things—was good; she made quick work of the first two guards who charged her before, upon seeing that both of her friends were down, with discs pressed to their necks, she had to give up.

"Bring them to the throne room," Clu ordered, trying his best to sound flippant and not ecstatic like he really was. "And I need all their discs."

"You'll never get away with this!" the User snarled defiantly as he was dragged past him, which just made Clu laugh. Yeah, you're really tough, he thought as he sneered at him, wanting to remind him how close he was to finally achieving his goal that would change the User's world forever. Let's see how tough you are when your whole world is at my feet.

II

For the first time in years, Flynn realized how helpless his inaction had made him. All those years he had wasted—mainly because he believed if he resisted Clu something bad would happen to Quorra…or to himself—had made him even more helpless in the face of the monster he had created. Yes, Clu fed on his resistance, becoming more and more powerful (and vicious). But he also fed on his inaction, using it to fuel his already fervent belief that his world must be imperfect, using it to make him even more prepared for him to "fix" it. And now he himself was just an old man, tied to a table, unable to do anything about the horrible thing that was happening.

"Dad!" he heard Sam exclaim, but he couldn't bear to look at his son because he never wanted him to see him in such a helpless position. The realization that Clu had captured Sam, Quorra, and Ram—who, even from where he was lying, he could tell didn't look good—should have been enough to break his spirit…but it didn't. Instead, he began plotting how he could possibly get them all out of this situation alive.

"You see, Flynn," Clu walked over to him and laughed, a grin far too much like his own for comfort plastered on his face, "good things come to those who act first. And…like I said earlier, it's a good thing you gave that pitiful actuary the ability to page Alan."

And then, Clu's eyes flashed, and he could have sworn they grew even darker than they already were. His grin morphed into a sneer, and, as if encouraged to keep talking by his lack of a response, he added, "But I don't need him anymore. You want to see what I'm going to do to all the imperfect things in your world?"

Flynn knew immediately where this was going—and next he'll probably do the same to Quorra, and I can't let that happen—but he didn't struggle because he would need the element of surprise on his hands if he was going to be able to do anything. Let Clu and the guards get distracted with torturing Ram, he thought sadly, watching two guards drag the now struggling program towards the cruel device he should have never allowed his program to introduce to the system. I'll use that time to find a way out. It's the only way at this point…

III

Gem watched silently as Tronzler practically chugged the vial of pure energy she had given him. At the moment, she was far more concerned about trying to determine when he would be ready to leave. It wasn't that she wanted him out of her hands; it was more that she wanted to get him on his way to take down Clu who, she figured, was probably almost ready to exit the system and bring his warped view of perfection to the entire world…killing countless people (and innocent programs more importantly) along the way.

"So you think that programs that were repurposed can be restored?" she asked, trying to hide the hopefulness in her voice, when he had finished drinking. "I mean…you remember who you are after all…so can others?"

Sighing heavily, Tronzler replied, "I don't know. Honestly, I don't even really know how this happened. And, it's not like my coding has been completely restored." For a moment, he fell silent, and Gem could almost feel the sadness coming off him in palpable waves. Then he added in a small, hesitant voice, "It would take a User to truly restore me."

Gem could only watch as Tronzler's eyes flashed and he let out a low growl; clearly, he was fighting back an error message of some kind. When it was over, he let out a low whimper and whispered, "Look, I'm not who I was…before. But I'll do my best to destroy Clu. I promise."

IV

"What is that thing?" Sam breathed, but Quorra didn't answer. She couldn't answer because she didn't want to admit what she was seeing. Frantically, she looked around the room, sizing up the guards—and finally calculating that, given there was ten of them and Flynn was tied to a table—she couldn't take them, she shut her eyes and wished all this would just go away.

Confucius might be right that all humans are inherently good, she thought bleakly as she listened to Clu mock the poor little actuary. But I don't think that applies to programs. When nothing happened—she didn't hear screaming, didn't hear Clu's voice anymore—she opened her eyes and saw that Ram was staring the larger program down, a defiant look in his eyes and a smirk on his thin face even though he was about to have all his functions slowly and painfully absorbed.

"Going to beg for your life, you pitiful viral?" Clu asked, twirling what she figured was Flynn's disc, and, as far as she could tell, he wasn't at all pleased at Ram's defiance.

Ram paused for a moment—his eyes filling with sadness, as if the realization it was really all about to end had finally dawned on him. More than anything, Quorra wanted to break away from the guards and save him—in that long, painful moment, she didn't care about Sam or Flynn, she only cared about Ram—but she knew she couldn't; it was all a lost cause. So this is it, she thought miserably, watching as the little program slowly tilted his head to glare up at Clu.

"Nah, I'm good," he said finally, his voice unusually confident and firm for a program in his position. And then he added, his classic smirk forming on his face once more, "Do ya need me to help ya plan for your future needs before I ain't around anymore?"

"Did you really think I was going to fall for that?" Clu just laughed, although his eyes were filled with anger. "I'm not Jarvis…and this is it for you."

Ram didn't seem at all perturbed by the suggestion he was about to be de-rezzed which amazed Quorra. But then again, it made sense; Ram had been pretty much laughing in the face of his deresolution most of his life, surviving despite the long odds, throwing his life in danger for them repeatedly. He must have a plan, she thought hopefully as she once again began trying to calculate a plan of attack. Or he's, at the very least, buying us time. "Hey, it's what I'm good at!" Ram exclaimed, his eyes flashing. "And…ya should know your plan's not exactly—how should I put this?—perfect."

"And what in the name of the Users do you know about perfection, man?" Clu snarled, wheeling on the little program; the rage in his eyes was enough to make Quorra flinch even though she wasn't anywhere near him.

Ram just blinked and replied innocently, "Well, I got a 99% accuracy rate which is 'bout as perfect as an actuarial program can get. And I just calculated the odds of your little plan, and you only got a 90% chance of it working." He paused for a micro, letting his words sink in before adding, the sneer in his voice unmistakable, "And that ain't perfect, man."


	26. Chapter 25

_Hi, all! This is the second to last chapter (don't worry, there will be an epilogue as well). As you noticed, it's all in the present...and it's important so pay attention lol. So please enjoy and please tell me what you think! I love hearing from you, and my reviewers helped keep this story alive. Anyway...enjoy this chapter and R&R! ~Moore12~ _

**Twenty Five **

_2009 _

I

Now he'd done it. Even though his processors were running far slower than normal—and the calculations that had kept him alive for so long were getting harder to make—Ram knew he'd done it. Clu had that look in his eyes, that look of not being able to even begin to calculate how to solve a problem. It was that glazed look of confusion, of horror that any program got when asked to solve a problem they couldn't possibly solve based on their programming, a look he had seen many times in his past. And it would hopefully buy the others some time…

As for him, he was just beginning to process that this was probably the end of line for him after all. He could feel data fragmenting, slipping out of all the holds Flynn had placed in him when he "fixed" him the first time after he stupidly ran the light jet into Clu. Not that this was Flynn's fault, he knew; no, the guard punching him hadn't helped matters, knew deep down inside that he was just an outdated actuarial program anyway that, in the end, couldn't take all this abuse. But…still…he wasn't about to quit when he had just gained the advantage, so he quipped even as his CPU pounded, protesting the initiation of his command, "You're not perfect. Never were. Never will be."

Maybe he had pushed just a little too far because the look on Clu's face changed to one of pure hatred. Well, Ram, you really are glitching, he thought, snickering weakly. You pressed your luck when the odds probably weren't good… Before he could really process what was happening—because, well, everything was happening admittedly too fast for him—Clu had shoved him against the device, a wild, cruel look in his eyes he had seen only once before.

"How about you calculate the odds you're going to live through this for me, Ramster," he snarled even though there was a hint of laughter in his voice that Ram figured had something to do with how crazy he was getting…all because of him. Well, you did it, he thought, relief flooding through him even as the device whirred to life. He's glitching, and that's good for…

Pain. So much pain. He couldn't even finish his thought; the moment the device was up and running, there was only pain. He hardly even was aware that he had started howling because pain made up his entire existence. Prompts were screaming at him to move, to struggle at the least, but the functions they were trying to reach were slowly being wiped away. More pain. His vision beginning to fog over—a small, whimpering sob escaped him—he prayed for the first time in cycles…

…dear User please…make it stop…

Data fragmenting…slipping with ease out of the holds Flynn had placed…his coding being ripped apart…pain…so much pain…everything that made him the program he was slipping away…He didn't care at that point what happened to him; he just wanted the pain to stop, for everything to be over. CPU throbbing with pain, a final thought: it'll all be over soon.

Part of him was aware of the laughter in the background the entire time, and then it stopped. And then—to his vague amazement, he was, after all, hardly able to think—the device shuddered to a stop as well. But, really, it meant very little to him; his knees gave out, his circuits sparked painfully, his head hit the ground yet again…Pain. So much pain.

And as he slipped to the ground, he realized his prayer had been answered…just a little too late.

II

He wasn't perfect? His plan wasn't perfect? Trapped in the logic loop that pathetic excuse of a program (even if he was a near glitching perfect actuary) placed him in, the only thing Clu could do was laugh. Laugh at the madness of it all—how could he of all programs not be perfect?—laugh at the viral's screaming as his functions were slowly and painfully absorbed. It didn't matter what Ram thought, he told himself. Because he's about to finally be de-rezzed anyway.

But still…the doubt lingered, straining his processors as his CPU futilely tried to calculate how imperfection had crept into the plan he had been perfecting for so damn long. Wanting to scream himself, Clu turned his attention back to Ram to keep himself from continuing down that dangerous path. He would enjoy his triumph over that stupid pest that always laughed in deresolution's face. Well who's laughing now? he thought, holding back a wild smile the best he could. And this is just the beginning of my triumph.

Just when Ram had fallen silent aside from the occasional whimper (signaling his imminent demise, he knew), everything stopped. It was almost like all of the energy had been sucked out of the room instantly—the lights flickered and went out, the device whirred to a stop, causing Ram to slump to the ground—and all he could do was turn and face down the only occupant in the system who could do such a thing.

What he saw was enough to nearly convince him that maybe, just maybe, his plan wasn't perfect. Because his "creator" had somehow managed to free himself even after he had taken great pains to make sure that would never happen. But there wasn't time for him to try to calculate how it had happened; no, he had to make sure that he restored everything to the way it was before…and protect the disc he had in his possession, the disc he could still use to change everything if he got to the portal first…

Before he could even attempt to flee—even the most basic of commands were more difficult to follow because he was still stuck in that irritating logic loop—a pulse of energy sent him careening into the back wall, causing the disc that mattered more than anything else to skitter away from him. When he managed to pry open his eyes, well aware that everything he had worked so hard for was falling apart right before him, he saw that Flynn had somehow helped his son and the female program escape, and the female was rushing towards where the disc lay on the ground. He couldn't let her get it, and he was in the process of hauling himself to his feet he realized something that only added insult to his injury—she was an ISO. But…but I eliminated them all! he thought wildly, unhooking his identity disc as he scrambled to his feet. But…

Maybe Ram was right after all, he thought as he flung himself towards the disc, well aware if he didn't secure it, it would be all over for him and his perfect—yes, yes it is perfect, he told himself—plan. But…that can't be. Can it?

III

"You'll need this," Gem said softly, handing him a small case containing five vials of pure energy. "Take one if you feel like your system is running slower than it should."

Only nodding in response, Tron took the vials and stuffed them into a pocket of the jacket he was wearing to conserve as much energy as possible. After she handed him a light jet baton, she added, clearly trying to hide the concern in her voice, "I know you said that you wanted to go alone, but if you ever need any backup, there are some rebels…"

Trailing off most likely due to his lack of response, they stood there in an awkward silence for a long moment; he didn't trust her and wasn't about to give away any of his plans, after all. Finally, he decided it would be best to say goodbye and get on his way, but Gem continued: "Look, Tron, Castor may have been on Clu's side, but that was only because he wanted to gain more influence so he could help the programs, alright? And you can say the same of me: I honestly don't care about Flynn or the new User but if they're the only ones who can save us, I'll stand by them. So…if you think this is all some trap, it's not."

Tron did his best to smile at the siren but found he couldn't. Thankfully, he managed to suppress the growl he felt rumbling underneath the surface. He didn't care about the politics. He honestly didn't even stop to wonder whether or not this all was some big trap. All he cared about was finding his true self in the mess of written over coding he was, and he knew destroying Clu would be the end of his long and painful life as Rinzler. And—deep inside, buried underneath Clu's modifications, obscured by all the error messages he kept encountering—he heard it. It was faint, and he couldn't make out the words, but he heard it, heard it for the first time in so long.

And then it was gone, and his CPU scrambled to remember but encountered another error message instead. Knowing he couldn't wait anymore, he said goodbye to Gem and left without another word.

The light jet rezzing around him, he shot into the sky, straining to hear it again because he knew it was important, knew it defined his previous existence, knew it…

Error.

Somehow, someway, he would find freedom again; that was all he knew for sure…

Error – or was it?

IV

If anybody believed in second chances, it was Flynn. Watching as Clu struggled to his feet only to lunge towards his disc, he didn't feel angry or even betrayed. Only moments ago, he had wanted to destroy Clu—make him pay for all the pain and suffering he had caused in a system that had been better than he could have ever imagined—but now he only felt sympathy for him. In that one moment he was almost able to forget Clu's crimes and see him only as the misguided…son he had created, but it only took one look at Ram's crumpled form to remind him what Clu really was.

Still, he had created Clu to build the perfect system and, man, had the program tried his best, even if his view was extremely warped. What the hell is wrong with you, man? he wondered as he watched Quorra secure the disc. You've already made too many mistakes to make that one…

They had to get out of there before he did something stupid; he was well aware of that now. Ripping a chute off the back of one of the damaged guards, Flynn yelled, "Party's over! Let's get the hell out of here!"

Sam, who had secured his own chute, got the message and, de-rezzing a guard, rushed to the window. Quorra clearly didn't though, which didn't surprise Flynn at all even though she had the disc that held the key to the world's future. Instead of retreating to get the hell out of there before Clu called for backup, she had run over to help Ram who, he could tell even from where he was standing, couldn't be saved at this point. Unfortunately we don't have time, he thought sadly, yelling at her to get over there immediately. I'd have to find his disc—and I don't know where the hell Clu put it—and it would take awhile for me to fix all the damage…let alone for him to reboot properly. And I can't let Quorra sacrifice herself for some program…

Before he could do anything, Clu was up again—the kid really won't quit, will he? he thought dryly—and rushing towards Quorra, his disc a deadly blur. Without even thinking, Flynn fired another energy pulse into his program to buy them some more time…

And, as he watched Quorra kneel at Ram's side, he remembered what he had told the little program what felt like ages ago and believed it fully for the first time.

V

"Go."

She almost didn't hear him, and, for a micro, she wanted to believe she hadn't. Staring down at the little program's face—she almost couldn't bear to because the ugly mess of scars on the right side of his face was back (clearly all the fixes Flynn had done hadn't held up to the torture he had been put through)—Quorra wanted more than anything to believe she wasn't seeing what she was seeing. "Ram…" her voice trailed off because she didn't know what she could possibly say to make any of this better; no, she knew nothing she said would help at this point.

"It's…ok." Ram's voice was barely a whisper, and she had to get closer to make out what he was trying to say. "You…got to."

"No," Quorra replied firmly, glancing over her shoulder to see Clu struggling to get back to his feet, something she thought he wouldn't be doing for a few more micros after being hit by that blast of energy. "I-I can't."

"Quorra!" she heard Flynn yell, but she didn't want to listen to him; she didn't want to run away and hide when that's what she had been doing for most of her life. Why does he seem to think I matter more than he does? she thought even as she tried to calculate how she could possibly save Ram. That doesn't make any sense…

So she didn't get up to obediently return the disc to her mentor, instead reaching down to try to pick up Ram. But, to her surprise, the little program pushed her away, a defiant glitter in his remaining eye she had seen many times.

"Ya…glitching?" he asked weakly, a small smirk forming on his gaunt face that made her smile even though it also made her feel as if she was being torn apart pixel by pixel. And then he added, his voice cracking as he did, "Ya got…t-to go. Now."

Her mind racing, she still tried to figure out a solution even though she knew, deep down inside, that Ram was right. Based on the damage he had sustained, he wouldn't last long, and they had to get to the portal to make sure Clu and his army of repurposed programs couldn't get out. The disc she was holding was the only thing that was ensuring the User world's survival, and she couldn't let that fall into Clu's hands again. And, based on the small smile and the hopefulness in his eyes, Ram felt exactly the same way.

"Ram, I'm sorry," Quorra whispered, reaching down to take the little program by the hand for only a moment. "I-I…"

"Don't…be," he only murmured in response, cutting her off and gently pulling his hand away. "Now go."

And she went without another thought even though every fiber of her being protested her decision, decrying her for her cowardice and selfishness even though she still was all too aware it was the right (and only) thing she could do.

VI

With a crash, Sam launched himself through the window, holding on to a nearly unresponsive Quorra for dear life, his dad right behind. His adrenaline pumping—he could still almost see himself de-rezzing guard after guard after his dad managed to free himself by wiggling out of his restraints—he managed a soft landing and then spun around to check on his dad who just pointed at a light jet that was parked nearby.

"Let's go!" Sam exclaimed, wanting more than anything in the world right then to get the hell out of this place before anything else crazy happened. "We're almost there! Just a little further!"

He didn't think he could possibly be surprised by anything anymore (no, not after everything he had been through) but he couldn't help but chuckle in amazement when his dad just punched a guard in the face to get the program to let them take the light jet. Despite that, he didn't feel truly safe until they were off the ground, and his dad steered them out of the rectifier and off to the portal that would save them…and let him have his father back after all the years.

Sam was about to start talking about everything they were going to do as soon as they got back—they, after all, had a lot of catching up to do—when something stopped him. An uncomfortable, painful silence seemed to have descended on the ISO and his dad, and, for whatever reason, he didn't trust himself to break it. So they sat like that for what felt like ages, nobody saying anything at all, until the portal came into sight.

"Quorra," his dad said softly, his voice filled with pain (which Sam didn't understand because wasn't he about to go home? shouldn't he be happy about that?), "I'm sorry. There was nothing…"

"It doesn't matter now," Quorra replied, cutting him off before he could even finish his thought. And then she added, her voice wavering, "What's done is…done."

"It shouldn't have happened," his dad continued, acting almost as if the ISO had never spoken. For a moment, he fell silent as he piloted the light jet to the ground. When he spoke again, his voice was high and angry and clearly wasn't directed at Quorra: "Goddamn it, Ram! Why'd you have to go and do that?"

Sam never liked silence, and this silence was especially weighty and pain filled. He could almost feel himself tearing up even though he had hardly known the little program. The guy gave his life for us, he thought, watching his dad and Quorra's reflections in the light jet's windshield. He really did. Finally, Quorra broke the silence, a resolute, though miserable, look in her eyes. "He thought it was right," she offered, a small smile tracing her lips. "Now…let's go so it's not all in vain."

VII

He couldn't let this happen. Not after everything that had happened, not after he had finally found away to save everything he cared about. He couldn't. Even though his CPU screamed in protest, even though all of his processors were slowly and steadily failing, he couldn't just lay there while everything fell apart yet again before his eyes.

Biting his lip to keep from howling because of the brutal pain, he managed to push himself to his knees before he collapsed again. Please, he thought miserably, the pain fogging his vision, making his circuits flicker wildly. Please…I got to…finish…what I started.

Prompts issued futile commands to functions that couldn't possibly initiate, let alone carry out what was normally so simple…His CPU raced, trying to find a solution, any solution, that would help him complete the only objective that had survived over the last 20 years…The pixels around his damaged eye flaked slowly away, reminding him what was happening, that he couldn't escape it this time.

He also knew he couldn't live with himself if he let this happen. If you…don't do this, you're as glitching…worthless as he said, he told himself, trying to, through sheer will, force himself to his feet. You knew…there was a…0% chance you'd…make it. So…go out with a bang.

Smirking his class smirk—you'll teach…him to think…before he messes with you—Ram forced himself to his feet, gritting his teeth in pain. This isn't over, he reminded himself as he, on badly shaking legs, limped to where a guard's discarded light jet baton lay, just begging him to come and take it. He's…not going to win this time.

Rezzing the light jet around him and managing not to scream in pain, he shot off in the direction Clu had gone, remembering how wildly the admin had been laughing as he went, using it to fuel his rage. He…thinks it's…over, he thought, keeping the smirk on his face. But…it's not…


	27. Chapter 26

_Please read: Sorry about the false alarm. I had way to much left to say, so I had to split my last chapter in two. So THIS is the second to last chapter (there is one more chapter after this and then an epilogue). Anyway, I hope you're enjoying this, and thank you to the people who have been reviewing. You guys are the reason I actually am this close to finishing this lol. So enjoy and please R&R! Help me reach 50 lol ~Moore12~ _

**Twenty Six**

_2009 _

I

It was so close too. If he could, he would run to it—it would be a fitting ending to all of his struggles. Maybe, on the other side, he'd find something that would heal his scars and make him whole again somehow. The other side, he figured, held the keys to his salvation; the salvation he thought he would never reach during all those long, painful cycles he was trapped in a place he didn't want to be, a place he once thought contained everything he ever needed.

It was so close too, and he knew everything would change for the better if he could just get there. But he couldn't because he had one more painful challenge he would have to endure before he could finally escape. And, now, even thought salvation was so tantalizingly close, he wasn't sure he'd be able to get there, and he was well aware that he might have suffered for no reason.

Staring down his creation, staring down his creator, just trying to keep himself from plunging, each was so agonizingly close to finishing what he had alone had started but was fated to fall before he could ever hope to rise again…

There was so much Flynn wanted to say when he saw the hatred on Clu's face. Yes, his creation was a monster, there was no denying that, but after a little soul searching he realized he had, in a sense, betrayed the program. He wasn't about to blame himself for the atrocities Clu committed—no, he never wanted anything like that to happen—but he understood why he had done what he had. I told him to create the perfect system, he thought gravely as he pushed Sam and Quorra towards the portal. But there's no such thing as perfection, just what people (or programs) believe is perfect…and I was so wrong when I thought perfection really could be achieved. "Clu!" he yelled over the din, hoping to buy Clu and Quorra some time and maybe, just maybe, help his program recognize his mistakes. "I'm sorry. I never wanted this to happen, and…I'm sorry you can't understand any of this because I couldn't when I created you."

There was no way Clu could reply to the self-proclaimed creator who he knew was nothing more than a frightened, pathetic old man. Even though his CPU was still reeling—trying to calculate what was so imperfect about him and his plan to bring the perfection he was tasked to deliver to the User world—he suppressed a growl and forced a smile to give the User false hope. He's so naïve, he thought as he strode towards the User, who was blocking his way to the portal and to the User and ISO. He'll think I'm listening to him, but he doesn't even make any sense.

Encouraged by his program's smile—maybe, just maybe, there was still hope for him, he wanted to believe—Flynn continued, "The thing is, Clu, there's no such thing as perfect. And I'm so sorry I created you to believe in something that…isn't real."

He had heard enough. Nothing Flynn could say would make this any better; he knew what he had to do. He was so focused on his User—he would (like all the others) cower at his feet, he reminded himself, stifling a wild laugh before it could erupt from within—he didn't even notice the ISO push Flynn's son into the portal. Even as he pushed his oh-so-wonderful creator to the ground, he realized he had a big problem that could potentially derail all of his well laid plans and prove that pitiful little viral right. Flynn didn't have a disc on his back…And, based on the fact his son was being pushed to the portal by the ISO, it appeared the User would be escaping by using the disc that was rightfully his…

"Why?" he asked in a small voice, aware that, if he didn't do something fast, his adversary would defeat him. Trying to calculate the best plan—there's no time for this, he nearly screamed—he barely heard his creator respond: "Because he's my son."

Torn between his two options, Clu froze, the logic loop he never quite escaped causing his CPU to reel once more…On an impulse, he raised his hand to strike down Flynn thinking if he couldn't get out, he'd make this glitching system perfect by destroying the one who had betrayed him even though he was his creator…

The end was in sight. He couldn't calculate the odds, but he knew they weren't good; he was damaged beyond repair and didn't have an identity disc to protect him. Even the most basic of commands were becoming difficult to carry out, and he could hardly think anymore, let alone pilot his light jet. The pain consumed him but, fueled by rage and grief, he carried on. Clu would fall—the programs would be free once again, the Users (and Quorra) safe…Blinking to clear the fog from his eyes, Ram wondered if he was too late and then something that caused what was left of his spirit to plummet…

User, no, he thought, and, with that he de-rezzed the light jet and let himself fall…

So this was it? In a sense, he knew it would be the whole time. It's about time I practice what I preach, Flynn thought wryly, preparing himself to reintegrate Clu even as his son screamed at him to come with them. This needed to be done long ago and…He didn't even get to finish his thought or attempt to absorb his program. Because, in that instant, a small, slender program plunged from the sky (a fallen angel? no…it couldn't be) and crashed into Clu, pulling the administrator down with him.

"Ram?" The name caught in Flynn's throat and when he looked down he saw it was, in fact, the little actuary. Underneath him, Clu, who was clearly rattled, was just beginning to struggle, and he knew the badly damaged program couldn't hold him for long.

When his eyes locked with Flynn's, Ram just nodded, holding back a whimper of pain the best he could. Go, he thought, but the words didn't come, and he could only hope the User understood. Just…a little…longer, he reminded himself as Clu began to struggle, as he listened to Sam scream for Flynn to get over there. Come on…Flynn…go!

"Thank you."

There was nothing more he could say—words, for the first time in so long, failed him—and there wasn't any time. With that, Flynn turned and ran to the portal, and he managed not to look back only by focusing on Sam and Quorra. Together, they stepped into the portal, securing salvation for themselves and for the world he hadn't seen in so long and had missed so much.

It's over, he tried to tell himself as his son raised the disc, as he watched Clu throw Ram's limp body to the side. But, deep down inside, he knew it wasn't and he had so much more to do…

Screaming in rage, Clu got to his feet and turned around only to be confronted with a cruel reality. The portal had gone dark. Flynn was gone. His son was gone. Even the glitching ISO was gone. Everything he had worked so hard for had been stolen from him, snatched right out from under him, and someone was going to pay. He didn't care about what was right and wrong anymore; his rage was enough to temporarily free him from the logic loop, enough to make him want to destroy the pathetic little virus that had thwarted what he was convinced were perfect plans. Without even stopping to think, he walked over to where Ram was lying on his stomach and grabbed him by the neck, hauling him to his feet.

"I should have de-rezzed you long ago," Clu growled, tightening his grip around his neck as he did, preventing any form of stabilization from happening in the process.

Still, even though he could feel his processors failing, even though he knew a fatal error was coming, Ram managed to smirk in the face of his captor and reply, "Yeah…ya should've." Pausing for a moment because of a particularly bad burst of pain—User…please…make it stop, he prayed as his entire body shuddered—he added, "That's…why ya…ain't…per-"

Before he could even finish his thought, Clu snarled and threw him towards the entrance to the portal. The impact with the ground, which would under normal circumstances not even come close to hurting him, had him shaking with pain—his processors whirring unhealthily, his circuits sparking with pain, his CPU throbbing, he let his one remaining eye slip shut. And then, he felt a booted foot come down on his neck, and he would have screamed if he was able to. Data fragmenting…a dull flicker to his circuits…a silent prayer for it to be over quickly this time…The pain was too much for him to bear, and he barely heard Clu ask, in a cruel, mocking voice, "Any last words?"

Instead of answering, Ram just smiled to himself despite his intense pain. It's over, he thought, ready to just slip away into the welcomed blackness of deresolution. You…really…did it. And, when Clu pressed down harder on his neck, he gave into the pain and stopped fighting for the first time in countless cycles…

II

As soon as his feet hit the ground, Tron unhooked the discs from his back and took in the scene. A few feet away, his master (error – Clu is the enemy) stood with his back turned to him, one foot pushing relentlessly down on a smaller program's neck. "No last words, huh?" he heard Clu ask, a snarl in his voice that had him growling in return even though the question wasn't directed at him. "Well, Ram, I expected more from you."

He couldn't stand there and let this happen, but, for some reason, he just couldn't move. Conflicting prompts issued their commands—some telling him to attack, to destroy Clu like he had promised the siren (and himself) he would, others ordering him to go to his master and see if he required his assistance—and he almost screamed for them to stop. He knew, deep down in his core, what he should do, but his functions wouldn't initiate because Rinzler still lurked inside him, preventing him from doing what was right. He could only watch, one disc raised and ready to be thrown, as Clu unhooked his disc and laughed wildly. "Goodbye, you fragging viral."

In all his cycles fighting for Clu, he had only known brutality. Even though he was ready (and all too willing) to fight for the program he had been repurposed to believe was his master, there was always something miss…always something just not right about it. That little voice trying to get through to him, trying to tell him something he couldn't grasp through all the harrowing error messages. That little voice he couldn't quite hear even after he remembered everything, remembered everything because of that little program lying helpless at Clu's feet.

He heard it now…

…I fight for the Users…

Without a second calculation, he hurled one disc—his own, not the one that Clu corrupted so long ago—at the administrator and watched as is struck him in the back, watched as it cut right through him…And, as the tyrant's pixels rained to the ground and scattered, leaving no trace of his existence, Tron knew he was free.

He wished he could relish the sensation, but there wasn't time for that. He could tell that Ram badly damaged, and he couldn't just leave him there to de-rezz. As quickly as he could, he ran over to where Ram was lying on the ground on his stomach, his dull circuits flickering rapidly. Kneeling down at his side, he realized he didn't know what he should do so he said in a weak voice because his confidence was fading fast, "Hold on, Ram."

He didn't get a response, as was expected given the little program's condition. Remembering he had a few vials of pure energy, he gently rolled Ram onto his back and, with a pang of grief and regret, he saw that the right side of his face was essentially gone; pixels were still flaking off right before his eyes. His left eye was closed, and his tongue had lolled out of his mouth…and he could tell by the way his circuits were flickering his injuries were fatal.

"Ram…" he began but his voice trailed off; he couldn't bring himself to say words of encouragement when he knew they wouldn't mean anything—no, he would never make any empty promises ever again. So, instead, he retrieved a vial from inside his jacket and, opening Ram's mouth, poured it down his throat. Watching the actuary's circuits brighten a little, Tron knew he had bought himself some time so he could calculate what he possibly could do (if anything) to help. But what could he possibly do?

And, as the rain began to fall, Tron realized he couldn't save everyone like he always thought he could before his transformation.

III

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

It was raining; he knew that even though he couldn't open his eyes, knew that even though he could feel his system failing. It was raining, and he was de-rezzing, and that was all he knew.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

A shard of a memory—one of the happy ones that were few and far between—surfaced, brought on by the rain. Smiling silently to himself, he allowed himself to fall back into the memory, wanting to be happy in his last moments, figuring he deserved a little peace after everything he had been through…

_There was so much to see. His neck hurt because he couldn't help but keep looking up at all the tall buildings in amazement, but he didn't care. No, he didn't have a care in the world; he was just thrilled to be alive and in a system that held such boundless opportunities. Walking back to the light runner after wandering around the city on his own for a little while, he still couldn't believe that this was really happening. Because, in many ways, it just didn't make any sense to him. When he got back to the complex, he would begin his new life as an administrator in this amazing system and, as far as he knew, he was just an actuarial program and wasn't at all qualified. _

_But he wasn't about to complain about it; no, he was absolutely thrilled for the opportunity to represent the programs, to give them a voice as Flynn created a system he claimed would be "perfect." Grinning to himself, he remembered being told by Tron (after Flynn confused him with his talk of being a "moral compass" and "a voice") that his directive was really quite simple: "You're basically fighting for the programs." And, if it was anything that Ram liked doing most of all, it was helping people and programs. _

_Drip. _

_What in the name of the Users was that? Looking up nervously at the sky, it happened again. _

_Drip._

_Something was falling from the sky. They weren't pixels; they weren't even drops of energy. It was something new entirely, and, after calculating there was a 0% chance the sky was falling, he couldn't help but laugh. He knew then that living in this new system—where, apparently, there was always something new to see and learn—would be far different (and much more exciting) than living in the one he came from. Still laughing, he climbed into the light runner and took off…ready to start his new life and eager to help in any way he could…_

_Drip. _

Drip.

The pain pulled him out of the memory, and he shuddered violently, a low whimper escaping him. He couldn't open his eyes; he couldn't move. Because he couldn't cry, the sky must be crying for him, he almost chuckled…Praying it would just end already—there was nothing left for him to do, he had completed his directive…and the pain was just unbearable—he felt a hand, heard a familiar voice tell him it would be all okay.

Even though he didn't believe him, he was happy not to be alone…and then he let the blackness overcome him, slipping away with a smirk on his face because he was finally free…


	28. Chapter 27

_Please read: Here's the last chapter (don't worry there is an epilogue as well). Enjoy - and check out the author's note at the end. _

**Twenty Seven **

_1__985_

_I_

_He had found a friend in the bottle, and, man, did it feel good. The more he drank, the more he was able to forget, and forgetting was what he needed to do. He figured if he could forget his pain and his sorrow it would eventually just cease to exist and he could finally get on with the life he had been leading…before. He knew even then that logic wouldn't hold up as soon as he was sober, but that realization didn't stop him from opening another Bud. Forgetting for a little while was good enough for him. _

_Before he could take the first sip of his third bottle, his phone rang. Grumbling under his breath how it was rude to interrupt his "party," he picked it up and was met by Alan's anxious (and fairly angry) voice, "Flynn, are you planning on picking up Sam anytime soon?" _

_Right…he was supposed to pick up Sam at Alan's. How did I forget that? he wondered only for a moment before the beer bottle in his hand answered the question for him. Collecting himself, he replied, "Yup. Sorry, man, I totally lost track of time. I'll be right over, I swear." _

"_Have you been drinking?" _

_As usual, there was no accusation in Alan's voice; it was just filled with sympathy, something that annoyed the hell out of him. "What's it matter to you, man?" he growled impulsively, more angry about his tone than his question. _

"_Flynn…" Alan's voice was heavy, frustrated. He hated it, hearing him sound like that helped him to remember things he didn't want to. "I can't have you driving…with Sam in the car when you're drunk. Don't get offended, alright?" _

_Offended? What right did he honestly have to be offended? Beginning to feel deflated, he decided to turn again to the bottle, hoping it would lift his spirits and help him form an adequate response. All he came up with was what he blurted out seconds later: "Oh come on, man! Back when I was in college, I used…" _

"_Look," Alan cut him off quickly, which wasn't unexpected but still pissed him off (not that there was anything he could do about it, he knew he really didn't have a leg to stand on), "I can't let you drive with Sam in the car when you're drunk, alright? He can just stay for the night. It's fine. Don't worry about it." _

_He didn't answer that—didn't fucking feel like it—and, after a moment of awkward silence, Alan hastily said goodbye and hung up. Instead of hanging up, he found himself listening to the dial tone, wondering when everything fell apart and how it had. _

_Oh yeah, he remembered. And with that, he dropped the phone and chugged his third beer of the night, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the bottle would make all his pain go away…_

…_and when he woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and no clue where his son was, he blamed the friend that had turned out to be an enemy after all. _

_II _

_It had been a week since he last went to the Grid, and, even though he had been working to cut back on his drinking as much as possible, he didn't want to go back just yet. He couldn't face his own creation, not yet, not after what had happened. Going back there a day before the funeral had been a mistake, and he wasn't about to go down that dangerous road again because he figured he would do something stupid. Admittedly, talking to Tron had helped, and he knew that Jordan wouldn't want him to sit around and mope for the rest of his life. But still… _

_In the Grid he was essentially a god, but in his own world he was just an ordinary human being at the whim of whatever force was out there. He would be the first to admit he wasn't the most religious man in the world, but he still believed firmly that some things were just outside of the control of people…and, even though it hurt to admit it now, he knew it was supposed to be that way. Which was why he couldn't go back to the Grid where he could control over such things, where he had powers no human should have…_

_Damn it, I need a drink, he thought bitterly as he got up from the couch to get his first beer of the night out of the fridge. If I keep thinking like this, I'll never go back there. _

_III_

_He wasn't really surprised by the reaction of the two programs when he walked into the complex. In Grid time, he had been gone for so long after all, and he figured they had probably begun to believe he was never coming back. Upon seeing him, Clu, clearly trying to keep his composure to no avail, rushed over and, with a oh-what-the-hell kind of smile on his face, hugged him. "I knew you would come back!" his program exclaimed after he pulled away, turning only to shoot Tron a smug smile._

_Tron, as usual, was more reserved even though he could see the excitement (and relief) in his eyes. He just shook his hand and quickly asked the question he expected he would but was hoping he wouldn't, "Good to have you back, Flynn. Everything's okay now, right?" _

"_Yeah, man, I just needed some time off, that's all," he replied quickly, hoping the monitor would get the message and realize that now wasn't the time to talk about his problems. If I start talking—or even thinking—about Jordan, this stay won't be very long, he thought as he changed the subject: "So, what'd I miss?" _

_With a wide smile on his face that almost made him laugh, Clu burst into a long, detailed report of everything that had happened while he was MIA, clearly beyond thrilled to be able to discuss topics relating to his function after so long. And, honestly, it was nice to just stand there and listen to Clu prattle on about how everything in the system was running so smoothly, so perfectly—just as he envisioned it. _

_His program was just going through some numbers when the front door swung open and in rushed Ram. "Guys, the portal's…" his once exited voice trailed off immediately upon seeing him standing there, alive and well, and he offered an unusually hesitant (and rather sad, he realized with a pang) smile. "Hi, Flynn." _

_Seeing the little program standing there made him remember. For a moment, he didn't answer; he couldn't because his mind was reeling, torn between feeling sympathy for the program he had screamed at, basically telling him his life didn't matter, and wondering why in the hell programs were allowed second chances and not people. When he looked up from the floor, he saw that Tron was staring at him, concern in his eyes, and Clu just looked…it couldn't be that was a triumphant, smug grin on his face, could it? Forcing himself to focus on Ram—who looked even more concerned than Tron (an open book as always)—he managed what he figured was nothing more than a pained half smile. "Hey, Ram. Good to see you, man." _

"_You too," Ram replied stiffly, nervously glancing over at Tron who, to his surprise, just shook his head. What's wrong with them? he wondered, beginning to feel indignant even though he was well aware that he was to blame for the actuary's reaction._

_Sighing deeply, he collected himself, remembering that they were programs (and not people) and that was why they had different rules. Besides, I can't blame Ram for anything, he thought. He didn't ask for me to bring him back, after all. So he pushed aside his dark thoughts, pushed aside his memories of the loved one he couldn't save, and actually managed a genuine smile. _

_Without a second thought, he walked over to where Ram stood and wrapped him in a tight hug. "I'm sorry," he said softly after the actuary tentatively returned it. "I shouldn't have yelled at you like I did. I was just angry, and I took it out on you." _

_After breaking off the hug, Ram just smiled, a relieved look in his eyes that was unmistakable. "It's okay. I'm just glad you're okay and things are gonna go back to normal," he said simply. _

_If only, he thought ruefully even as he smiled encouragingly, even as he exclaimed that they needed to tell him what they'd been up to lately. Things will never be normal again…I just have to accept it… _

_2009 _

I

"I have to go back."

The realization hit him, and Flynn just said it aloud, not really caring what Quorra or Sam thought because he knew he had to do this deep down in his very soul. As soon as he had returned to his world, he had accessed the computer and tried to delete Clu only to find out that he had already been deleted. It was then he knew, but he checked anyway and found that Ram (remarkably) and Tron were both still alive. And, after trying to access Ram's file to fix him up (something he knew the little program needed desperately) he found that he couldn't, as was expected given the actuary didn't have a disc on him. After determining he couldn't help from the outside, he knew what he had to do.

"What?" Sam exclaimed, a stunned expression on his face that almost made him flinch. And then he laughed hesitantly, clearly wanting to believe he was joking, and added incredulously, "Why the hell would you want to go back there?"

How could he explain to his son—who probably believes I'm abandoning him again, he realized with a pang—why he needed to go back? He was about to answer, but Quorra beat him to it, a hopeful smile on her face, "You're going back to help Ram, aren't you?"

Well, I wasn't going to explain it like that, but that will have to do, Flynn thought as he cleared his throat and then replied, "The kid deserves a little, don't you think? And I can't access his coding out here, probably because he lost his identity disc. So I need to go back and see what I can do…" Seeing the wounded look on Sam's face, he paused, trying to determine how he could assure him that this wasn't a goodbye. "I won't be gone long. I promise."

Sam just stared at him for a moment, the wounded look on his face quickly transforming to one of anger. "Is this some fucking joke to you? You're safe! Why the hell would you go back there?"

"If it wasn't for Ram, we wouldn't be here, Sam," Quorra replied evenly, shooting him what he could tell was an approving smile. "Besides, I'll be going with him, so I'll make sure he's…"

"You're not coming with me, Q," Flynn said firmly before turning to Sam and adding, "And neither are you Sam…I'm sorry. This is something I have to do."

Before his son or the ISO could interfere, he accessed the laser and initiated his digitization…

II

It was crazy, to be sure, but Tron was running out of options. At the least, there would be precious supplies there to buy Ram more time, at the most, well…he didn't really believe much in miracles anymore. Glancing anxiously over at the little program—that was huddled in the jacket in the seat next to him—he knew he didn't have much time to waste agonizing over where to go. So he landed the light jet (the three-man he had founded parked at the portal) in front of a building he hadn't entered in so long: Flynn's. To keep himself from growling at the thought of the name of the enemy (he's your friend! he reminded himself angrily), he turned his attention back to Ram and said softly, "It's going to be okay, bud. I'll figure something out."

The words felt empty as he gently pulled the actuary out of his seat after opening the door to Flynn's. Even as he carried Ram into the building—hoping there would be something (anything) there that would help him—Tron knew it was no good; the pulsating was impossible to ignore causing the reality of the situation to dawn on him: he could only buy the actuary time and couldn't possibly save him. Still, he had to try…didn't he? After all, wasn't he a lost cause who had been saved?

"Tron?" Torn from his dark thoughts, he almost dropped Ram in shock at the sound of a too familiar voice calling his name. When he collected himself, Tron looked up from the little program to see Flynn standing before him and froze immediately. It was almost like he was being torn in two different directions; one side wanting to finish the terrible User (his enemy) off, the other side trying to talk him out of it, reminding him that Flynn was his friend and always had been. Unable to hold back a growl—after all that time, all those cycles as Rinzler, some things couldn't be changed—he somehow managed to reply evenly, "Flynn…Ram needs help."

With those words, Tron laid Ram's still, broken body onto the floor and moved aside for the User—who, he knew, could do more for the poor little program than he could—to take a look. His mind reeling, he watched as Flynn knelt down at Ram's side, looking him over with a sad (it couldn't be, could it?) and helpless expression on his face. While he has so much he wants to say to the User—he was so very close to unleashing all the painful cycles he had endured just because Flynn couldn't listen to anyone but himself or his program—he knew he had to stay focused on Ram. "What's wrong?" he asked stiffly.

Sighing heavily, Flynn responded, "I don't know if there's anything I can do, Tron. Without his disc, I can't fix any of this." He paused, and it was hard for Tron to even look at him, and reached down to pull the jacket tighter around the damaged program. "I…I was hoping you might have found it and didn't put it back on him."

"I don't know where it could possibly be," Tron said nervously, well aware where this conversation was going. He was about to yell at the User, tell him that doing nothing wasn't an option, when he remembered. There are no such things as miracles, he told himself. And Users aren't as all-powerful as you once naively believed.

For a moment, there was only silence. Tron didn't want to feel angry, didn't want to feel betrayed, but he did. A memory surfaced, hidden for so very long, as he watch Flynn take the second to last vial from the jacket and gently pour its contents down Ram's throat. Grappling with the memory, he didn't trust himself to speak but then, when the User didn't say anything, blurted out the question: "If Ram de-rezzes, you won't be able to rewrite him, will you?"

"I was hoping you wouldn't ask," Flynn sighed yet again, looking down at Ram with a look of indescribable sadness on his face. "But I'm not going to lie to you. I can't because I don't have him backed up anywhere. I don't even have his memories backed up, Tron. The last time, Roy gave me his coding and a memory chip, so…he was the same Ram when I rewrote him. If I rewrote him this time…"

A shudder of understanding shook him to his very core, and Tron couldn't help but finish the User's sentence: "He wouldn't be the same Ram."

"Exactly," Flynn murmured, shaking his head as he did. "I wish it wasn't true, but after Jordan died, I made the decision not to back any of you guys up. And, now…damn it, if anybody deserves a second chance it's this guy."

Tron could barely look at Ram at that point—no, he couldn't see past the severe damage on his face, he couldn't see past the fact that his old friend was about to de-rezz (yet again) because of Flynn's stupidity. To keep himself from attacking Flynn, he unhooked the discs from his back and spun then idly, wanting more than anything to escape what was happening. And that was when it hit him: "I have two discs."

"So?" Flynn looked up from Ram to stare at him incredulously.

"Couldn't you erase everything on one of them and then copy Ram onto it?" Based on the look on Flynn's face, Tron assumed his idea was stupid, but he didn't care. They had to try to do something, after all; he couldn't live with himself knowing they had just let Ram de-rezz without even making a single attempt to save him.

"If only it was that simple," Flynn replied miserably, reaching down only to pat Ram on the shoulder. "But, hell, it's worth a shot."

It wouldn't do any good; he knew that then, and he knew he had to get out of there before he did anything drastic…

III

Flynn wasn't surprised when Tron's idea didn't work, but failing to make any difference still tore his heart in two. Pouring the last vial of pure energy down Ram's throat, he realized it was probably time to say his goodbyes to the little program who had so willingly given up his own life to save theirs. Damn it, man, he thought bitterly as he rested his hand on the actuary's limp one. Just because you didn't want to play God anymore, you hurt Ram, and he always believed in you…didn't he?

Honestly, he wouldn't blame the actuary if he had given up all hope in him (and the Users in general, for that matter). But…still…Ram was about to de-rezz, and the only reason he was going to was because he had helped them. Kid probably was only doing it to help the other programs, he realized, a small, sad smile crossing his face. "I'm sorry, Ram," he said finally, trying his best to hold back his tears. "I'm so sorry. If…if I could do it all over again, I would've listened to you, and I would've definitely backed you up."

Silence was all that answered him, and Flynn wished that Tron had stayed. But he understood why the monitor had left on what he knew was a futile mission to find Ram's disc, only based on the fact that Clu must have had it last: he didn't want to see his friend's deresolution. Sighing deeply, he continued, well aware that the actuary couldn't hear him but still feeling the need to talk to him anyway, "Most of all…I'm sorry I treated you like you were just a bunch of lines of code and nothing else. I only did that because…well…after Jordan died, I couldn't accept that you…got a second chance…But…none of that was your fault, and I'm…"

Choking back a harsh sob, Flynn began to cry uncontrollably. Blinded by his tears, he didn't notice that one had slid down his chin and dripped onto Ram's face. He also didn't notice that Ram's nose twitched ever so slightly at the sensation, eyes fluttering a little.

Drip.

When he managed to open his eye, he found his vision was blurry, clouded by his agony. Still…here? he wondered, only dully surprised because, well, he had seen it all.

Drip.

It was still raining—a system sad to see him go crying to wash away his sins. But…that didn't make sense. Even though he was damaged and completely unaware of where he was, how he had gotten there and how in the name of the Users he was still alive, he could tell he was inside. And then he realized someone was kneeling over him but…it couldn't be could it?

"Flynn?"

A small, ragged voice tore Flynn from his thoughts, and he stared down at the actuary in wonder. Ram stared back at him in equal wonder (and even more disbelief) and continued in a pained, halting whimper: "You came…back…for me?"

"Yeah, of course," Flynn answered, trying to hide the sadness in his voice the best he could as he squeezed Ram's hand. He stopped when Ram didn't squeeze his hand back—he can't even accomplish the most basic of functions, he realized with a pang—because he didn't trust himself to say anything more.

"Ya…glitching?" Ram wheezed—or was it a chuckle? Flynn couldn't tell, but based on the mischievous glint in the program's otherwise foggy eye it was meant to be a chuckle. For a moment, he was convinced the actuary was going to continue, but he didn't; instead, he just let out a low whimper of pain.

"Ram…" How could he possibly explain to Ram that he couldn't do anything to save him? How could he possibly apologize for all the pain he caused him in his life? His processors were whirring unhealthily, his circuits dully flickering, his good eye growing more and more unfocused and fogged with each passing moment. He didn't have much time left to say what he needed to say. So he weakly chuckled in response and then said, trying to keep himself from crying, "No, I'm not glitching. I just…I'm sorry, Ram. I'm sorry I acted like you were just a program and never listened to you, and I'm sorry I didn't back you up…I just…after Jordan…"

Ram couldn't move, or he would have squeezed Flynn's hand back. The pain was worse than before, which was saying something, and he could feel his coding crumbling away. It was almost over—which at that point, was more of a relief than anything—and he managed to smile at the User because he could tell he meant what he was saying. Besides, he had known all along he hadn't been backed up, so he didn't feel betrayed. Just…happy to know Flynn actually cared. "Flynn…" he rasped, gathering the last of his strength to be able to speak. "All…of us…die. What…matters is what…we do before. It's…okay."

"Ram…" Flynn's voice trailed off again, and, as the fog completely filled his vision, he could barely make out the User was crying…Ram would have told him to stop, but he was in too much pain and couldn't waste words repeating what he had just essentially said, couldn't even whimper in pain. No…he had to save his strength to be able to make his one last request…that was all that mattered now anyway…

"Flynn," Ram swallowed, his voice cracking with pain, when he didn't finish his thought. "Take…care of…everyone for…me, alright?"

"Alright," Flynn replied, smiling down at the program, hoping the promise would somehow comfort him. It was all he could do at that point, and he couldn't help but cry as Ram's circuits flickered weakly twice before going dark, as his good eye slipped closed once more, as a smile crossed his gaunt, damaged face…about to de-rezz once again…and, yet, somehow clearly at peace with everything…

Drip.

Drip.

It wasn't raining. The User was crying. The pain was too great, he could hardly think anymore. Data fragmenting, coding crumbling, it was over, wasn't it? Not a false alarm? Not just a forced shut down? They'd do alright without him, he knew that now. Besides, he was free. Smiling…he slipped away into the blackness, crumbling into nothingness…finally set free from all his pain…

"Goodbye, kid," Flynn murmured as he watched Ram's slight form shatter before his eyes, his pixels cascading to the ground, mirroring the movement of his blinding tears…

* * *

><p><em>AN: (please read): Hey all! I put this at the bottom b/c I didn't want to give the ending away. Wasn't it a long chapter lol? Anyway...I hope you enjoyed this story (I know I really enjoyed writing it). This isn't the end because there still is an epilogue but I figured I'd put this here. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter, the story in general and the characters. I really want to know what you thought of the ending and the story as a whole. I really appreciate hearing from you and since it's basically over I'm hoping to get some feedback. So please review and, once again, I hope you all enjoyed it (even though the ending was sad). ~Moore12~ _


	29. Epilogue

_Please read: check out the (final - omg it's really over lol) author's note at the end. Enjoy and R&R please guys! _

**Epilogue **

_1985_

_It all held so much promise. His digital frontier would change the world, change the course of the human existence forever. Looking out over the city that was slowly expanding—growing in size and in grandeur—he couldn't help but beam. Everything was coming together exactly as he envisioned it would, and he figured it was time they kick back, relax, and celebrate all of their achievements. _

"_You guys are the greatest!" he exclaimed when he finally turned away from his creation to address the three co-administrators who had helped him make his dream a reality, who would, in the future, help him introduce his creation to a world that probably wasn't ready for it. "Man, would ya look at it?" _

_Grinning his own lopsided grin back at him, Clu replied enthusiastically, "It's looking better every cycle!" For a moment he paused before tacking on seriously, "But, of course, there's still work to be done. The grid bugs keep…" _

"_Come on, Clu, lighten up, will ya?" Ram broke in, a bright, earnest smile on his face. Turning to him, he chuckled lightly, happiness glittering in his eyes, "It's…really amazing. Never thought I'd see anything like it."_

"_Hell, only three years ago I didn't even know any of this existed!" he just laughed, walking over to where three programs were standing, all watching him intently, albeit slightly confused by his reference to "years." I'll have to teach them more about my world, he made a mental note, before continuing, "I mean…the old Encom system is nothing compared to this, but still…"_

_That was enough even to get a laugh out of Tron who, like his User, was always a bit of a stick in the mud. Still laughing, the monitor just shook his head. "User, Flynn, this coming from the guy who needed to be told to watch out for the force fields…" _

"…_and wanted to know what his 'dream' was all about," Ram added mischievously, glancing from Tron, who just nodded knowingly, back to him. _

"…_and didn't even know what pure energy was." _

"…_and thought he could take down the MCP, just the three of us." _

"_Glitching, wasn't he, Ram?" Tron howled, and he knew that the pair would continue having a good laugh at his expense—even though he had to admit that the two programs were right (and absolutely hilarious)—if he didn't cut them off soon. _

"_Alright, guys, give me a break," he cried in mock indignation even as he threw his arms around both Ram and Tron's shoulders, drawing the two laughing programs in. "You win for now at least. But don't forget I designed this system, and you may find yourself in my position…completely confused by what in the world's going on around you…"_

"_Not a chance, man!" Ram, who had finally stopped laughing, exclaimed, the bright grin returning to his face. "The odds of that happenin' are slim to none." _

"_Says the actuarial program," Tron, still trying to calm down, he could tell, chuckled. "You better listen to him, Flynn. He has a 99% accuracy rate." _

"_Oh yeah?" he asked, trying to sound as incredulous as possible, as he turned to face the little actuary. "What's the statistical probability this system's going to be everything I crack it up to be?" _

"_Well…" Ram said thoughtfully, pausing only for a moment as if to calculate the odds officially, "I'd say ya got a near perfect chance of making your—what's the word?—'dream' a reality." _

_Grinning—clearly the co-administrators had faith in him and their directives based on their smiles—he beckoned for Clu to join them in a group hug. And, after they finally broke away, he realized the whole system held so much promise and would, one day, be perfect. _

_Perfect enough to introduce to the world…and to his son… _

_2009 _

He emerged from the Grid a different man than he had been when he entered it all those long years ago. He emerged broken and beaten, aware that his creation had destroyed almost everything he had held dear, aware that he was returning to a world that might not be so welcoming. Flynn didn't really know what the future held for him—he understood everything must have changed during his absence—and, for the first time, he was afraid. Afraid of what the future might hold, afraid of not being accepted by the only people he truly cared about anymore.

He understood betrayal now, and he had paused before entering the portal, remembering the look on his program's face; the hatred, the anguish, his clear belief that he had been done wrong. It was the same look his son had given him when he returned to the Grid to save a program he knew even then probably couldn't be saved. Would he accept him? Would he still love him after everything that had happened? Would he understand why he had to go back? Sam wasn't the only one he betrayed, after all…Ram needed him more in that moment, and he needed him to understand why everything had gone so horribly wrong and that he appreciated all the sacrifices he had made…

All those questions were about to be answered, he knew. His son—the son he had abandoned (not willingly, he reminded himself to keep from bursting into tears again)—was staring at him incredulously. Finally, a small, hesitant smile formed on his lips: "I knew you'd come back," he said resolutely, walking over to hug him. After he pulled away, he continued, his voice becoming (thankfully) more enthusiastic with each word, "Come on, let's get out of here! There's so much you need to see and…"

Flynn's near elation at being forgiven by his son was immediately dampened when he looked over at Quorra and saw her lip was trembling slightly. Cutting off Sam in a small, already miserable voice—clearly she knows what happened, he realized with a pang of regret and grief—she asked the question he was hoping to avoid: "Ram didn't make it, did he?"

Shaking his head, he responded solemnly, trying his best not to remember all the damage, all the pain in the little program's eye, "There wasn't anything I could do."

Quorra bowed her head then, and even Sam's—who admittedly knew very little about the Grid—enthusiasm appeared to have been greatly diminished because of the news. After a moment of respectful silence, Flynn continued, not even trying to mask the hitch in his voice, "Ram was…a good kid. He would want us…" He didn't even finish his sentence; he didn't need to, and the tears had caught up to him anyway. But then he remembered the small smile on Ram's face as he slipped away, remembered his last request. But then he looked at Sam and Quorra and saw that the love they had for him in their eyes. The fear began to dissipate; the scars began to heal…

The past was the past, Flynn realized then. The future, even though there would definitely be many challenges along the way, was still his; he could shape it in any way he wanted. He had Sam—his son, who he had spent all those years missing more than anything—he had Quorra. He knew there would be other people glad to see him. And the Grid? He'd fix it. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would be the best it could be. For the programs. For Tron. And for Ram most of all. The next time around, it would be worthy of being introduced to his son…and to the world.

But that was for another time; right now, he had some catching up to do.

It all held so much promise.

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><p><em><span>Please read: <span>First of all, I just want to thank everybody who reviewed. You all were the reason I kept writing this even though I was really tempted to stop around chapter 15. This has been quite the journey, and I hope you all enjoyed it even though the ending was sad (yet, I hope, hopeful as well). Also...since this is my first full length Tron fic (or fic of any kind for that matter) that I actually finished, please give me your feedback. Am I good at this? Did you enjoy it? What did you think of the characters? Who was your favorite? Etc. Etc. I'm thinking I maybe will write a sequel sometime (not soon) or write another Tron full length fanfic, so I want to hear what you all think. Finally, I really do hope you enjoyed it. I spent a lot of time working on it, so I hope that was apparent. I wrote this for you guys, and I'm happy to say it's been a great ride. So thanks for reading, and please tell me what you think. ~Moore12~ P.S. For everybody who was sad/cried when Ram died, I just wanted to let you know I got a little misty eyed writing that scene myself. I already miss the little bugger... _


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